A to Z 2016 : CONFIRMATION

A to Z 2016

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Reflections

It may have taken the better part of the afternoon, but Samson's fingers were now flying across the keyboard. Letters forming words, words sentences, and sentences beginning to string along a narrative semi-cohesively. He felt as though he must have tapped into his stream of consciousness. There may be a lot of editing needed before finally publishing his new blog post, but that was a small price to pay when compared to the alternative. A stark white screen, a flashing cursor taunting him to write something. Anything.

That cursor and Samson were akin to dysfunctional ex-lovers. A bad romance. No matter how often that cold-hearted bitch made him feel like shit, worthless and alone, he would always go running back to her whenever she came back into his life. Thinking each time that things would be different. Things would finally progress and they would move forward together in unison, complementing one another. But it was always the same. She would mock his lack of motivation, lack of creativity, and worst of all, his lack of having a voice. And each time he would leave, swearing her off, vowing to never to return. Thus the cycle continued.

But today, today everything changed. That bullshit movie romance was unfolding right before his eyes. The two of them, working in tandem, bringing forth verbose prose and flowery exposition. It was too beautiful for him to fully describe, let alone grasp. Despite the spewing narrative that sprung forth from his fingertips and chased his lover across the blogging site's built-in writing doc template, he was at a loss for words. He knew better than to question it, though. Samson had longed for this very moment. The moment when the Universe began manifesting his wishes and dreams into reality. There was no way in hell he was going to stare this gift-horse in the mouth.

Samson continued to write for what seemed like hours before coming to a stop. He had little choice, even though he had so much more to give, more his soul wanted to pour out onto the page. While it seemed that time had stood still mentally, his body betrayed that figment. He was sweating, having no air circulating in his stuffy apartment, and both of his wrists were experiencing a dull throb. As he attempted to rub away the pain, he briefly examined his work.

It was rough, but expansive. It was likely one of the best pieces he had written in who knew how long. As suspected, he would definitely need some time to edit, but that could be done in a more leisurely fashion. For now, it merely had to be saved as a draft. Samson reached down for the touch pad, when all of a sudden there was an all too familiar chime sounding from his laptop.

Panic seized him, eyes widening, as he watched his current web browser sessions crashing, until he was staring at nothing but his home screen and a system message pop-up explaining the nightmare he had just bore witness to. Slowly his hand dragged across the touchpad, closing the pop-up, as he prompted another browser page to open. Doing so triggered another system response, this time the pop-up feigning concern and embarrassment over an accident it just made and questioning if he wanted to restore his sessions.

Yes, Samson clicked. Of course, fucking yes.

The crashed webpages began to spring back to life — Facebook, Twitter, Gmail, his personal blogging site. The blogging site reloaded back to the document template, back to where he had just expelled all of his being to the written word, back to a completely barren page. A snowy wonderland of nothing. The robust life that existed just moments ago was gone. It had abandoned its new home, rejecting the once lavishing landscape he had offered it.

All of it. Dead and gone.

His mood followed, fists clenching and tears welling up. The floodgates were about to burst open when something caught his attention. Something small, almost indistinguishable, pulsing on the screen. The white canvas wasn't completely devoid of life. Samson's depression immediately shifted to anger. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the culprit.

The bitch was back. But the romance was dead for good this time.

Samson swore it.

What did you think of this piece? Any constructive criticism is welcomed! Have you ever been writing and/or working on a project when all of a sudden something completely deletes/destroys is? Did you give up and quit or get right back to it?