In English, we were told to write a short story about something that we have learned. My short story idea came from my very recent writer's block episode and what I did to help get myself motivated.Both my short story and my animation star characters who struggle to find a way to express themselves through writing or painting, but have no clue how to do it. Here is my short story.
Writer's Block
The shot rang out through the neighborhood and the victim dropped to the ground. He went over to check for a pulse; there was none. Satisfied, he dropped his black duffel on the ground, took out his knife, and held up the victim's hand. Someone would have heard the shots and called the police, but he knew better than to hurry. If he rushed, then the crime scene would be messy. He was a clean man by nature and he also knew that the police would take forever to get here at this time of evening when traffic was at its heaviest. He slowly counted under his breath: one, two, and three...for all of the people he had taken care of so far. Finished, he wiped his knife off on the victim's clothing and sat back on his heels to look at his work. Nodding his head slowly as if he were in a trance, he dropped the knife into his duffel along with the murder weapon and left the scene.
Walker sat at his desk, his head in his ink-spattered hands. This was terrrible, just terrible. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Ink was getting in his hair, a fact that didn't sit well with him. He slammed his hands down on his desk in frustration and strained his eyes at the messy paper before him. It was time to take a break, since he was getting absolutely nowhere. He tromped up the stairs and took a shower, the steam enveloping his body--a visual imitation of the writer's block that held his imagination captive. Walker had been writing nonstop for three hours straight, viciously brainstorming and jotting down new ideas all over the pages in his notebook. Someday, he was going to get his work published and then he would look at his mother and say 'I told you so'. She had always said that his writing was too disgusting and that no one would want to read it and to pursue something else instead. He passionately argued that it wasn't disgusting, it was brilliant! His dream was to become a writer, and not just a writer, but a mystery writer! How thrilling it would be to see his name on the cover of a book in big, bold letters: Walker Willis! He would become a great writer just like his idols John Grisham and Michael Connelly! Just the thought of it was enough to make his blood boil in excitement. But first, he would have to come up with a good story. Drying his hair, he pulled on an old t-shirt, baggy jeans, and a sweater that was two sizes too large for him. Sighing heavily, Walker went back downstaris and ambled into the kitchen to try to come up with a new idea. The timer sounded a few minutes later and he hastily gulped down the hot beverage, his mind becoming more alert. Maybe it was time to go find some more ideas. It had been a few weeks since he had been outside. Humming to himself, he pulled on his gloves, pausing to grab some things from his spotless kitchen before he left. He walked out into the chilly morning air and shouldered his black duffel before closing the door behind him and heading off down the street. It was time to do some research.
