The
blank page is my enemy. It is a fierce and terrible monster. Before I
even attempt to attack, the monster taunts me. It mocks and ridicules
me. It calls me a fool and a dreamer. I should back away and find an
easier, simpler, less ambitious task to pursue. For I will fail, the
monster tells me, I will fail if I dare to face it.
I weigh
its advice. I consider its tempting taunts. But I know deep within me
that I can slay this fiend. Raising my sword, I begin to thrust.
Wait. I halt. Delete the few marks from the page. I recalculate my
tactics, reconsider my words. Recomposed and confident, I proceed
with my initial attack. My sword clashes with the monster's and slips
through, knocking a chink into its armor. Bringing the sword back
around again, I allow its momentum to carry me froward, strike after
strike.
Progress
is slow. The fight is laborious and tiresome. But every letter, every
word, every sentence breaks its armor a little more. The monster
cries out in anger and defiance. It tells me I can't continue. It's
noticed my growing weariness and exhaustion. What if I run out of
ideas? What if I simply cannot continue? It tells me to leave the
battle for a rest. The monster will wait right here while I recoup
and regain my strength. It knows, oh, this devious demon knows, that
I will likely never return from such an interlude.
I look
down at the monster. Its armor is nearly half gone. We both realize
that if I persist the battle will shortly be mine. Its words are no
longer confident taunts but pleas of desperation. I tighten the grip
on my sword. Every swing connects and shatters the monster's armor a
little more.
The
cursor still blinks, but the page is no longer blank. It is full. The
monster, however, is empty. It is empty of its energy, its insults,
and its mockery. Raising my sword high, I swing it through the air
with all my might, slicing through the monster's neck and
lopping its head off for a final, definite victory.
I lower
my sword and breathe heavily. Exhausted, but victorious, I smile as I
gaze upon my accomplishment and the once blank page now filled with
words. I have slain my foe. I have won.
------------------------------------------------------------
The
cursor drops to the next line and my worst fear is realized. The
demon rises up, completely whole, completely armored, and completely
empowered. The taunts of the blank page begin anew.
- Mitch Alfson
May 21, 2014
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