Click, click, click.
Gerome sat at his old wooden desk with a scrunched face. The papers all around him were covered in red ink and black text.
Click, click, click.
His fingers were rested on the keyboard that sat in front of the blank screen, the text cursor blinked in Gerome’s face.
Click, click, click.
“Come on, this is easy, just write.” Gerome spoke to himself as he readjusted in his chair. “Just have to write an entire novel by the end of the month…no issues.” He forced his fingers to press keys, but he promptly deleted what the screen displayed.
Click, click, click.
His eyes quickly darted to the direction of the fan that rotated in the corner of his room. “The giant wolf grabbed.” He focused back on the screen. “Grabbed? No, a wolf couldn’t grab anything.” He deleted the passage in frustration.
Click, click, click.
“The giant…no, the enormous wolf ripped the branch from the tree with its sharp fangs…” Gerome stared at the screen before him. “With its hungry teeth.” He pondered on the sentence before him. “Damnit.” His finger held the backspace key.
Click, click, click.
The frustration built on Gerome’s face as his attention was on the fan that clicked away. His eyes peeled back to the computer. “The hunter sat…the hunter crouched in the low overgrowth of the forest.” Gerome peered at the sentence before him. “God, this sucks.” He smashed the backspace key with anger, the blank monitor stared back at him.
Click, click, click.
“The hunter cloaked himself among the overgrown foliage of the forest. His eyes were locked on the monstrous beast before him.” Gerome’s fingers glided over the keys. “The enormous wolf reared with a mighty strength as it ripped a branch from a near tree.” Gerome paused. “Why would he rip a branch in the first place?” Defeated, he erased the text once more.
Click, click, click.
Gerome’s glare focused on the fan next to him, as it rotated in defiance of his work.
Click, click, click.
The sound that had crept into the back of his mind was then, all he could hear.
Click, click, click.
Before the fan could reach its point of return, Gerome launched his keyboard at the annoying machine. In an explosion of plastic pieces, the keyboard and fan scattered across the hard wood floor.
“Shit.” The realization of what he’d done set in as the heat from the still air took hold of his room. The blinking cursor on his word document began to mock him.
“Don’t you freaking start.” The author pointed his finger at the monitor before him.
Kris Writes Worlds 
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