The cottage sat amongst the trees far off the beaten path.
A vacation spot for writers to escape the summer heat.
Tucked behind the treeline there was a strange darkness that blanketed the small house
even during the day.
It was the type of place where there was a typewriter awaiting you,
But no place to plug in a computer.
No bottle of beer to embrace your writers block,
Just paper waiting to be used.
It was the type of place that in the magazine looked quaint and relaxing,
But in reality,
it became a jail when lethargy stepped in between you and your best seller.
The firefly that flies around outside your window
As if to brag about how beautiful the night air is only serving to frustrate you
Instead of amaze you like you thought it would.
As your night continues and your eyes become tired of staring at the paper in front of you,
The missing Zoom function of MS Word begins to look like a luxury that you wish that you had.
No matter how hard you push through to mask your frustration,
Distraction begins to take hold as your deadline creeps closer.
You are hungry.
There has to be some snacks in the kitchen.
Stumbling in search of snacks, you drag yourself from the uncomfortable antique chair
But alas there is only a box of porridge, nothing that will satisfy your craving for a burger.
Defeated,
You take your place to hammer out the breath-taking ending that your story requires.
‘When this book is done, I am taking a real vacation!’