I was feeling good about my WIP, stringing words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs when I hit quicksand. I struggled to escape, to find firmer ground, but every action pulled me deeper into darkness. My heart pounded like a jackhammer. My throat closed. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. I was in over my head.
Sharp writhing shapes pressed against me, their claws tearing at my flesh as they worked their way toward the page. I was helpless; terrified and appalled by the darkness. Manic madness emerged from my fingers, the pulsing stain oozing across the page, desecrating the virgin white space, creating a trail of darkness and despair.
Fear. My fear makes them stronger. The rising gorge of horror and desolation threaten to consume me. I fight grimly, but my strength...God, my strength and focus are failing. Thousands more press against me. My struggle attracts them. It fuels their frenzy, their hunger. I'm...I'm losing control. My
Sharp writhing shapes pressed against me, their claws tearing at my flesh as they worked their way toward the page. I was helpless; terrified and appalled by the darkness. Manic madness emerged from my fingers, the pulsing stain oozing across the page, desecrating the virgin white space, creating a trail of darkness and despair.
Fear. My fear makes them stronger. The rising gorge of horror and desolation threaten to consume me. I fight grimly, but my strength...God, my strength and focus are failing. Thousands more press against me. My struggle attracts them. It fuels their frenzy, their hunger. I'm...I'm losing control. My
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