Scrumptious Cycle

I’m staring at a blank field. At the very top of this vertical journey is a jagged blue ladder creeping

down.

_____Drip.

_________Drip.

_____________Drip.

Raindrops of inspiration splash across my face. Cold and

thrilling.

Across

from the right.

Inspiration falls from the

right.

That’s why they call it

right brain.

.

I see mountains of white—stacks of paper billowing and protruding,

puffing up like the ground is taking a deep

chest inhale.

And

The mounds rise with creakiness and

the boom and sharp whistle and

drizzle of

a thousand piles and pages slide and

collapse as the

giant awakens.

Wait!

I haven’t finished the first page!

.

When I step on the bottom, I sag against the ladder. Two

bowls of porridge are waiting for me. Steaming

with a sickly nutmeg scent. I

grip the spoon and

take a taste. Lumps of victory

mixed with salt exhaustion.

Exhaustion—

it is an extra flavor.

.

I devour it all.

Lick

the paste clean.

Stagger

to my feet and

flip the page.

.

Chapter 2.