Marney in the Middle

Chapter 35: Writer's Block

     Rowan stumbles through the large steel doors, whirling around in time to spot the grotesque as it lumbers up the castle steps after her. A massive patchwork of pilfered corpse remains sewn crudely together with thick string. The grotesque lifts... it lifts a... or maybe it throws... something.

I squint at the lined paper, tapping the pencil's eraser against my chin. After a second, I erase the last three words. Ok—

     With frostbitten hands, Rowan grips the ornate door handle and shoves with what little strength she still possesses. Her boots, slick with ice from the winter wasteland beyond, slip out from underneath her. She slams to the marble floor, pain rocking through her knees and thighs.

And then... um... so she falls and then...

I rest back against the bench and stare at the parking lot. Lately Toria's been gone by the time I'm out of sixth period, which means I either wait for her or walk. And I just don't feel like walking in this impossible autumn heat. It's seriously sweltering. Luckily these shorts, though way too short for my taste, have kept me relatively cool.

Taking a deep breath, I force my attention back to the paper. Time to focus. I tap my foot. I don't even know where this is going – not that I think that's why I'm blocked... Maybe I'm starting at the wrong part. Maybe the chase isn't where to begin. What if I start earlier? At the beginning.

     Rowan dismounts her horse, leaving it behind the inn to graze as she slips inside past other travelers. An orc with a jagged scar across his face glares down at her with his one good eye.

     "Keep movin'," he growls. She scowls back at him. Uncrossing his massive arms, he pushes himself off the doorframe so he can tower over her. "You deaf? I said keep movin', no one wants to see your kind 'round here."

     She stands her ground, turning her body to face the brown-skinned orc. "It's a wonder you can see me at all," she retorts.

     He bares his canines. "What'd you say, elf?"

     "I said back off before I take the rest of your sight."

     The orc—

Um, he.. maybe he draws his weapon? What kind of weapon? Wait—what kind of weapons did I even say the bandit orcs have?

I shuffle back through my notes, scanning the pages for character information. I give up after only a second and groan loudly. Leaning my head against the bench, I close my eyes and take deep breaths. The sun reflecting off the paper has begun to pound a headache behind my eyes. I massage my temples; I need sleep.

All I wanted was to write one scene. Just one freaking scene, is that too much to ask? I shut my binder without opening my eyes. Apparently it is too much.

As I shove my binder into my backpack, I glance up to check the parking lot one more time. Most of the cars have dispersed. Sunlight reflects like a mirage on the concrete, worsening my headache. I shield my eyes and look away. My gaze catches sight of someone walking off campus. I gulp as my heart flips.

Reese.

"That's coincidental," I mutter to myself. He disappears around the edge of the fence.

"Reese!" I catch sight of him again a few minutes later. Waving my hands, I shout his name a second time.

Reese turns around to face me. He's too far to make out his expression, but his body language is stiff. I bite back my guilt, which rises forcefully up my throat like bile. Jogging the rest of the way, I stop a foot away. He looks me up and down wordlessly. His greyish green eyes darken beneath a furrowed brow.