A Lost Idea

Estella was just another normal girl. She loved reading books, unlike most of her classmates, had large purple glasses and long, brown hair that was usually tied in a pony-tail. And today was just another normal day.

Estella woke up too late, wore the first thing that tumbled out of her closet, and barely made it in time to catch the bus, where she sat alone in the corner. When she reached school, she tried to avoid attention as much as possible, which wasn’t very hard for her, since she was such a nerd. Unfortunately, she had to bump into the popular rich girl, Zoe. Who obviously made fun of her funny glasses, shabby clothes, and the fact that she was a huge nerd.

Just like every other day.

But little did she know that today her life would change forever…today, she’d get the chance to be…a Superhero!

No, it’s been done too many times already…

Save to Draft…nah, I’ll just delete it.

I reach down for my mug formerly filled with coffee for the third time. I know I should probably just put it in the sink by now, but I literally can’t get out of my bed. Metaphorically, of course.

The lightbulb in my head lights up again as another idea comes floating in. My fingers dance across my keyboard. Quick clicks accompany the sound of the rain pattering against my window and the ticking from my clock. I try to capture the words in my head as soon as they appear, causing several speling mistkes along the way, of course.

“She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. He was a vampire. A blood-thirsty monster. All of his strange behavior made sense now. But the fact itself did not make sense. Nor did it make sense on why she was attracted to him so much…”

Wait, that’s just Twilight. And God knows we don’t need another one of those stories.

Delete.

The clicking sounds fade to rhythmic taps, as my fingers tap restlessly on the wooden side-table. The clock has given up now, and the rain is heavier than ever before, disturbing the stillness of late night. Both my glasses and my brain reflect the empty Word document, as the lightbulb in my head fuses and refuses to fix itself. After staring at the blinking cursor for five more minutes, hoping it had some magical ability to fix fussy metaphorical lightbulbs, I decide to charge my metaphorical lightbulb by giving it some sleep...wait, ‘Magic Ability’ is a great prompt for a story!

...Until I find out that a young orphaned child with secret magical abilities who goes on to attend a magic school is not, in fact, an original idea. I’m sorry, 'Parry Hotter', but to the trash bin you go.

I reach for my mug for the third time. Or wait, for the fourth time? I’ve lost count. This time, actually make the effort to bring the cup to my lips. Disappointed by the lack of hot liquid soaring down my throat, I finally get up and go to the kitchen to fill it up.

Even with the lights on, it’s surprisingly dark here. The shadows of the dishes messily stacked on the counter overpower the dim rays from the feeble lightbulb (literal this time), which flickers in fear. Or maybe it just needs repair.

I walk over to my pot of coffee, almost expecting a jumpscare from a ghost…

My lightbulb lights up again. The metaphorical one.

A ghost story!

Finally armed with an idea, I rush over to my laptop. The poor thing is pleading to be reunited with the charger, but not just yet, laptop! I have work to do.

Annoyed, it decides to shut down.

It awakens slowly as I plug it in, humming its mechanical song. I’m sure that if it could speak, it’d say enough swear words for this story to turn sixteen plus. Thank God it can’t.

All that’s left to do now is to water this seed of an idea and watch it bloom into a beautiful story.

...

It’s been two hours.

I must’ve been watering it all wrong because this seed is not showing any sign of blooming anytime soon. Horror, if you can believe it or not, consists of more elements than screaming humans. Unfortunately, that’s all I can think of.

Delete.

It’s almost 1:00 A.M. I should probably go to sleep. My eyelids think that too, by the way they keep drooping. But I’m just going to ignore all that. I’m sure an idea will come up. Anytime now…

...

Now it’s almost 2:00 A.M. Lovely.

Well, I suppose five hours of sleep ain’t too bad. Or I could just sleep till noon.

And that’s when it hit me, like a bolt of lightning. But a good one. One that, instead of killing you, gave you an idea more precious than all the wealth in the world, more beautiful than any hot celebrity, so wonderful and synonym of wonderful that you knew you had to pen it down that very secon…zzzzzz

...

Yawn.

It’s almost…11:00 A.M. The rain has stopped. The honking of vehicles, howling of dogs and squealing of little demons-I mean, children, has replaced the soothing sounds of the storm. My mug, whose bottom is still carpeted with coffee sediment, is patiently waiting to be absent-mindedly picked up, while my laptop enjoys a little snooze of its own. I wake it up, not-so-gently I’ll admit, and sit with my fingers ready to type out my precious, beautiful and wonderful idea…

Wait…where did it go?