Short Short Story - August 5, 2011

"Help me!"
"Help meee!" groaned the disembodied voice.
"You promised... you promised to protect me...to always be there for me" it continued
"No!"He cried out
"No, you are no longer a part of my life, no longer do I wish for you to be with me." he pleaded
"for better or for worse LEAVE!"

Jason mused a while longer thinking of an apt ending to his daydream, but he could find none. Caught up by his unyielding imagination, he seldom was able to focus. He needed to find a way to continue his story, and yet nothing he could come up with was acceptable. So distracted was he by his thoughts, that he hadn't realized the incessant whining of his canine friend. With a big yawn he rose from his desk and made his way to the musty old cabinets. He opened the cabinet drawer revealing the half-full bag of dog food, and dumped some in the corner of the room where a respectably large puddle of water had accumulated from an exposed leaking pipe. He thought back to the night before when his alleged 'friends' called him poor. "Surely none of them", he thought aloud" have the luxury of a feeding system as well as mine". Pushing away the thought he returned to his desk, and, ignoring the schoolwork which lay upon it, tried once again to find the path suitable for his hero to take. He danced his pencil across a blank canvas hoping desperately to find inspiration among his doodles, but after an unknown amount of time he was once again drawn away from his thoughts by a great rumbling and recognized that he had once again gone the entirety of the day without feeding himself. Taking his work with him, he trodded out of his apartment, and across the street to the cafe. After ordering his usual he settled down in a booth and started scribbling down answers to questions which wouldn't have challenged him even before he began taking classes. Satisfied with his haphazardly responses he returned to what he believed was his true calling, writing his novel. After he wrote out several promising options for his story he looked back over them all and sadly realized that none would be as ground-breaking as he wished for them to be. He excelled in everything he did, yet he could not find anything suitable to have deserved to be written by himself. Reluctantly he tore up the pages and once again set out to write the perfect story.

-John