Look, I don’t understand what’s so hard about this. I just want to write. That’s all. I just want to be left alone. I want to write. You talked to my wife? Yeah, she understands me. She gets it. Just ask her. She leaves me alone now. She took the baby and left the house after the second time I punched her for knocking on my office door. She always was the only one who got me. That’s what being married is all about. Being with someone who understands what you need and when you need it. I love her so much.
I stopped paying the phone bill after she left, and now the phone doesn’t work. It’s really nice in my house now. No more crying baby, no more ringing phone. Nothing but sweet peace and quiet. But I still can’t get anything done! I just want to write. Please understand. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never did. I just want to write.
The guy from next door knocked on the front door while I was right in the middle of a fight scene. Right in the middle, do you understand that? It was a pivotal moment, blood was flying, and the words were flowing like a river of fire through my brain. It was like coming over and over, a mental ejaculation. I can tell you understand, you get it when the words are coming fast and strong like that. I can see it in your eyes. But the guy wouldn’t stop knocking, and when I finally answered all he wanted to talk about was the grass in my yard. What the fuck do I care about grass and weeds and thistles growing through the fence? That shit’s for other people to worry about. I’m creating an entire world, here. Which is more important? I tried to explain this to him, but he wouldn’t listen. He just kept talking about the grass, and about the housing authority. More people were going to come knocking on my door and talking about the grass. I couldn’t have that, so I punched him in the stomach and stabbed him through the eye with my pen. I put him down in the basement so I couldn’t hear his bullshit anymore. After a while he stopped screaming. I finished the fight scene, but the words were a trickle of blood instead of a river of fire. I’d lost it, and it just wasn’t the same.
So you have to understand why I was in such a bad mood when the neighbor’s wife came knocking. I don’t know why she got so upset when I showed her. She wanted to know where her husband was, so I showed her. Now they’re together again. Everyone’s happy. I know I lost my temper with the police, but once you read the story they interrupted, you’ll understand. It’s amazing. Or it would be amazing, if I could finish it. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never did. I just want to write. I knew you would understand, doctor. You’ve been scribbling nonstop since you got here. I just want to write.
©2013 Dawn Napier
Dawn Napier is a married mother of three, and has been writing horror stories and poetry for most of her life. Her work has appeared in Absent Willow Review, Dark River Press, Dark Eclipse Magazine, Congruent Spaces, and Schlock! Webzine. When not writing she works a part-time day job and home-schools her older children. Dawn’s blog of fiction, poetry, reviews, and links entitled Mom’s Secret Horrors can be found here: