Writing

I fell to my doom and lost my sight.

I couldn't see anything.

As an author, I couldn't even pick up a pen.

I'd lost my one true love, no man or obsession, I lost my true-calling.

My ability to write was taken away, and I could no longer read to build off of ideas.

My ability to speak was slowly and secretly dying away too, and so was the one thing I had to offer to the world.

Words.

 

I wake up with tears streaming down my face.

It was only a dream.

But little did I know, in the near future, my worst nightmare would come true.