Juice

"The first sentence can’t be written until the final sentence is written.”


One more page. Just one. More. Page


Frustrated, he rubbed at the tender bags underneath his eyes and sighed heavily through his nose. He had been up since noon, working hurriedly in order to finish the story that he had set out to write by his fellow clan member, and (by giving a quick glance at the location of the moon) he knew he wasn't going to finish it in time to actually get any sleep that night. Once again. He scowled and stretched his tired limbs, the tell-tale ache of his sore muscles only furthering to irritate him more before he settled once again to scratch tiredly at his piece of parchment.

Scratch... Scratch... What was another word for 'said'?...Scratch...Oh, nevermind...Scratch- Snap

He had broken his quill. Again.

Lovely.

Huffing out his frustration, he swung around on the spot, threw down his quill and turned his head, looking for a sturdy new feather to take its place.

Where do I keep my spares again?

...

Oh, riiight. My bag.

He rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to slap himself for being so scatterbrained (and maybe regretting not turning into bed early so that he could work on the story in the morning instead), before swinging around once again to-

NO

His long, serpent-like tail had smacked right into the big open bottle of black ink that had formally been resting on top of a stack of books, adjacent to the pile of pages of his story that he had set out in a fanned manner.

Time seemed to go in slow-motion, for him at least, as he saw the bottle fall, glass breaking on the impact of the hard floor, and big long ribbons of thick black ink covered themselves all over his hard work. The screech of pure fear and frustration that he emitted was unheard of as he scrabbled fruitlessly to swipe some of the pages away into safety- but it was no use. Before his brain could even process what was happening, it was already over, all fifteen pages became a useless pile of black paper, the viscous liquid seeping into every crease of the spoiled paper, and oozing out of the edges.

Ruined.

It's all ruined.

Countless amount of days work gone (and just about the same hours of sleepless nights) in a flash.

Tears crept to the corners of his sore eyes, his breath shaky as he stubbornly tried to wipe them away, from his flushed cheeks. A rather loud sob erupted from his parched throat, his lips trembling with the effort as he struggled to keep his mouth closed.


"Oi! Keep it down will you?! We're trying to sleep!"


He closed his eyes.