Tuesday
Move forward. I must move forward. To somewhere.
I took another step. The ground crunched beneath my feet. The sun was high overhead, but I couldn’t see or feel it. I walked in a cloud. Deep inside my core, icicles grew. My skin burned with dancing pins of fire.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
There was no rumbling. The earth didn’t shake or roar a warning. It rose from the ground. Slow and intentional. A headless, slithering form. Long and slick with moisture. It slammed into my chest, wrapping over my shoulder. A thousand suction cups pulled against my soft skin. We were one now. I and this thing from the dark, cold stone.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
It pulled down. I weighed a thousand pounds. My back creaked and cracked. My muscles shook as they strained to keep me upright. Another tentacle rose and then two more. The first curled around my waist. It sucked my skin tightening it, pulling it free from flesh. The other two wrapped around my ankles. I felt as if my feet would break off and be dragged into the center of the world. My body turned to lead.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
The ground beneath me liquefied as the grip pushed into my bones. My skin now on fire, I pulled against the force with all my futility. My body folded into the newly formed seas. I was swallowed by the damp darkness. The water tore into my skin, stripping it away a single cell at a time.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
Deep within the endless sea, I tried to struggle, but my body had betrayed me. My muscles had melted away. My body pulsed, slipping deeper into the depths, closer to the things that lay below. The blood rushed past my ears, my eyes strained for light, my mind reached for relief. The weight of water piled against my skull, pressing into my every thought. In the dark. In the cold.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
I turned limp and lifeless. For a moment, I was weightless. With every meter, the pressure grew. My torn body pressed into itself. The world spun around me. My mind went blank long before consciousness slipped away. The day was done.
Move forward.
I must move forward.
To somewhere.
The harsh buzzing alarm ripped me into the world. A bed. An alarm. A new day. Wednesday now. Through the front door into an unforgiving world. I took another step. The ground crunched beneath my feet.
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The Inspiration for Tuesday:
I’m not talking about writer’s block.
I’m talking about emotional exhaustion and the inability to focus when everything is heavy.
It’s been a rough couple of months. I ran out of prewritten stories.
So I wrote what I knew.
This is what I know right now.
Every Tuesday I share a polished story for free. Paid subscribers also get the raw early drafts, short essays about what went into them, and the occasional experiment that probably should have stayed in the dark. If you want to go deeper into my head, bring a crucifix.
Where the money goes: I’m not here to get rich. Any support goes back into advertising this Substack and building toward self-publishing my first book.