Words Alive (story)

The beating of the clock announced midnight. As was my ritual, I awaited the moment to inscribe my despair upon the parchment, but tonight the page remained stubbornly blank. A chilling silence enveloped me, a void where words should have flowed. I wondered the reason for this mysterious curse. Distracted by the thought, a drop of ink fell from my quill, soiling the pristine canvas. What was that? The stain flew, out of my control. Letters began to pile up as the wall of a castle: I could not discern any sense, but slowly their chaos revealed a meaning. I recognized the words; They were not my own, yet they were undeniably mine. Horror gripped me as I read my own mind laid bare. Secrets I had buried deep within, desires I had never dared to acknowledge, fears I had locked away – all spilled forth. How they dared to escape? Page after page were being contaminated. I shrivelled in fear. Exposed to this unsullied wild darkness, I reached for the light: The flame ! With a trembling hand, I wiped away the ashes. Relief washed over me, a fleeting victory against the terrors that had consumed me. I extinguished the candle, plunging the room into complete blackness. But as the darkness lingered, a chilling realization dawned. I could no longer recall what was written, nor the thoughts that had haunted me.