One Thousand Word Challenge 137: Search for Inspiration

They sat there, staring off into a proverbial space, hoping that something would come to them, yet nothing would, for the only way that they were going to be able to proceed was to actually begin, and yet they felt no ability to do so for they wanted that big idea, that big motivation to get them going.

At the very least, a tiny, faint spark was enough for them to get moving, but it was not to be on that particular day and so staring off into a proverbial space was the most that they could muster.

It was going to be a long day and that exacerbated length was entirely of their own creation.

After much nothing for a while, they decided that it would be better to get up and not look at their screen, or anything within the vicinity of the screen. Maybe they needed to take a bit of a break and let the inspiration come from them as the inspiration wasn’t arriving through attempts at conjuring it into a state of existence. They got up, stretched, then walked away.

It was raining quite heavily outside and so there was little in the way of being able to leave the house without getting wet, even with a raincoat and umbrella. Going to the car would alleviate that a little, but it seemed a little too dangerous to drive. Therefore, the only course of action that seemed like the best was to amble throughout the house and see all that had been seen before.

They walked to the rear room where the rain seemed to be at its loudest. Looking out one of the windows, they could see that part of the backyard, due to its being covered in concrete, was filling with water. There was a drainage channel, but it was not large enough to allow all of the water to flow out at fast enough a rate, though this too had to do with vegetation growing around the channel’s entrance and so often when it rained heavily enough this particular part of the backyard would fill up and sometimes flow into the rear neighbour’s place where it would find another part of the drainage channel.

The rain itself was almost deafening, but try as it might, it never reached those levels. Still, it cast a sense of darkness across the room. There still was plenty of visibility, of course, but it was almost as though the day was approaching evening. It seemed gloomy and abrasive, yet quiet and relaxing all the same.

After a while of staring out and not finding anything, they decided to head to another room and see if there was anything else that could possibly spark something. Had they already started writing at this point and the inspiration would’ve come to them, but of course they kept putting it off and of course there was nothing flowing forward from their hands.

The living room seemed more still than usual. Once the record player’s amplifier stopped working the room saw a lot less use, but among the backdrop of the rain there was a greater stillness. It felt used yet untouched. There was nothing that was going t9o happen in that room on this particular day that could lead to anything. No amount of thumbing through records or looking at books was going to change anything and so the room would see the disturbance leave eventually.

More slow wandering occurred and through each room there was the sensation of passing through, though not without pause in each one. The search for anything that could ignite some sort of momentum toward creativity was fruitless and would remain as such, yet still they persisted in their attempts to get something going.

Eventually, after long enough they opened the front door and sat on the patio. It was slightly shaded and sheltered, for only part of it would avoid the sun and that part depended on the time of day. Of course it this also meant that it didn’t do much to avoid the rain. Depending on the heaviness, the small space would likely end up with a fair bit of water within. It was possible to stay dry for a while, though that depended on how uncomfortably you’d want to be on a chair. They did not feel a need, nor a desire to feel uncomfortable and so, not long after sitting down they got back up and stood in the doorway for a while.

The street was still visible, but the rain was thick and heavy and it seemed as though everything might eventually wash away. Still, it was quieter at this end of the house, though that likely had more to do with this part having the roof constructed from tiles rather than some mishmash of corrugated materials. It seemed more peaceful and perhaps more banal, and of course it offered absolutely nothing in the way of trying to get that small bit of inspiration which could be grown into an idea or concept that would drive the desire to write and guide things forward.

After a while they shot the door and headed back to their room. There was nothing on offer that they felt they could use and so they decided that perhaps the best way forward was to keep sitting at their computer and spend the time thinking in an attempt to will something into existence. To them it seemed that if wandering around the house didn’t provide anything, then perhaps they would be better served doing what they were originally doing, and so resuming that pathway to nothingness is what they did.

They sat there, looking at things within the vicinity whilst running things through their head, hoping for something to jump forward, though of course nothing did. They thought and thought and through that thinking the day passed on by, though not without not entering a single word onto the bright screen in front of them.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 17:20:67

Relatively slow and somewhat dull, but I’m fine with that for now.
I was looking more to express some sort of boredom, I think. Maybe.

Written at home.

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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