Here I sit. At my computer. Staring at an empty screen as I ponder the letter H, and all the words I can think of that start with that letter. Heart, heaven, hell, health, heather (the ground covering, not the human), hate, hunger, and so many more.
It’s the 8th day of #AtoZ2016. And I’m supposed to write something about something with the letter H. And I sit here, where I’ve sat for hours now, failing to come up with anything.
I’ve considered a story about Little Tommy. Yet another venture into the mind of a six year old, with such words as heavy, and hollow. But nothing fits. And each time I try to write, everything turns to fire.
I’ve considered writing something like I did for the letter G. A little bit of random prose that captures my thoughts on some word that starts with the letter H. But nothing comes to mind. And when I try to write, once more, everything turns again to fire.
There are oceans of characters, and stories I could write. From tales of the White Witch, and her adopted daughters, and the dragons of the world they live in, to tales of Frank and Jessica, and their post apocalyptic world, where society went insane and consumed itself, destroyed itself. Even to the world of the ants, and butterflies, and other insects, the successors to intelligent life on Earth, 65 million years after humans went extinct.
But each time I sit to write, my words are consumed by the fire that burns in my heart and soul. A fire I have been unable to extinguish for over two days now.
There are stories I have never spoken of, like the world where humans have become mass produced by the companies that need them. Where humans have become nothing more than expendable resources, to be produced, then used up, then thrown away, in the name of greater profit, and power, and the almighty growth of the economy.
Stories of the wounded child, wondering why his heart has to be torn apart for him to fit into a world he never made, so he can hold down a job, and be normal, and buy a house to live in, and a car to get to and from work with. And why he has to destroy his dreams, and his freedom, to do that.
An endless stream of stories.
But each time I reach for one, I see it burn to ashes in the fire inside my heart and soul. And I wonder why. Why do I try. Why do I bother. When all that ever happens is I end up here again. Consumed by the frustration, and the anger it ignites, when I try to interact with a world that makes no sense to me.
So I settle now for just one word.
And just one sentence.
H is for Hopeless.
It’s April 10th, and I’m a day late for the 8th day of the A to Z Challenge for 2016. Only 18 more letters to write stories for this month.
Please, go explore the A to Z Challenge, and the sites of others who are participating in this adventure.