The Demons

She takes a glimpse into the past and fear sets in. How to not be that for the future. How do you change enough to keep those demons at bay? How do you not turn out the way everyone expects someone who went through that to turn out? A writer looks into their past and uses their experiences and their pain to move forward to draw in their reader, to create fantastic characters and stories. Figuring out how to turn that pain, those demons into something beautiful, that’s what a true author does. No wonder writers drink she thinks as she pulls another tissue from the box, as she eyes the open bottles and wonders. As she gets up and pours herself a soda, no alcohol this time, try to stay dry, try to move forward. See who she has become not because of her past but in spite of it. Remember the love, the joy, put the demons away for now.

But the page beckons her and demands demons and pain. Pour it out onto the page, drop the floodgates, and let it out. Cry it out but then don’t, just let the pages have it. All except that last drop, because if you give it all to the page what will you have left for the next story, for the next character. Her demons laugh because there are so many it would be impossible to pour them all out.

Here she sits with her laptop as her fingers type out words faster than she can think them. As she hits a rhythm and wonders if any of this is her or if the demons have taken over her because the words just come as if there is no thought. And some of these words and sentences are perfect while others will be edited by the less emotional brain when this is all over. But for now, the words continue to flow. Flow like the tears, like the tissues from the box, like the whiskey into her drink, and here she goes again. And suddenly the deluge becomes a trickle and her fingers slow, and the words feel more forced, and she knows. Knows that the demons have said their part, for now, knows that the editing brain is awakening and the demons are at rest. If just for now.