Thursday, April 21, 2016
The Iron Writer -- Dust -- by Danielle Lee Zwissler
Dust Danielle Lee Zwissler I was hearing the voices again. Loud sounds, echoing in the recesses of my mind, screaming, telling me to do things, warning me, regaling odd phrases, familiar, but strange. My shoulders shook as I pulled down the old books off the shelves and placed them onto the cart. Dusty old tombs that were worthless anymore. Everything was on Google, everything could be looked up, and downloaded. A spider skimped across one of the old leather bound books and I jumped back, dropping it, making it bounce off the floor as if there was an earthquake. Dust flew up, invaded my nostrils, and I took a deep shuddering breath. I needed sleep. I needed to get out of here. “Just do it… Get the gun, and do it,” I heard. My heart hammered in my chest, and I looked to my left, and then to my right. I could feel the pounding in my head, and in my veins. “No,” I said, talking to myself. I knew there wasn’t anyone there. There never was. It was all in my imagination, it was… “Nobody loves you, Owen; you’re fat and you’re stupid.” I blew out another breath and picked the book off the floor. It was a story about a writer, and his friend, and his mother. All of these books, all of their stories, each one trying to be told, but nobody was here to read them. I passed into the next section, and more books, more thoughts invaded my head. There was a book of inventions, and it was handwritten. I opened it up, and saw many drawings. Illustrations of appliances, different contraptions, and even a trampoline. I heard the authors’ words, trying to convince me of their findings. I shook my head and pushed the voices out and placed the book onto the cart, and then moved down the aisle. I moved toward the romance section, and then to the science fiction, and then to fantasy. More voices, more agitated that the last. “You’re a Wizard, Harry, and a thumpin’ good one I might wager,” the voice said gruffly. “Stop it!” I cried, “Stop!” “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be…” I put my hands up to my ears and left the cart behind. I cried, and ran. Voices, all getting louder, ganging up on me, telling me what to do. “People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.” “PLEASE, STOP!” I screamed, and then collapsed in the middle of two sections of bookcases. I couldn’t take it any longer. My mind had finally gone. “Welcome to the Dark Side…we have cookies,” I heard, and then I started to laugh. *** They found me hours later, talking to myself, inventing my own stories, and then finally, years down the road, I penned my own first novel. Today, they call me an author, and you can find my books at: www.SheWritesRomance.com.