Writer's Block

“Bring out the Writer’s Block!” Justin looked up as the cry rang through the city. This would be the fourth writer they had killed this week, and it was only Tuesday. The Emperor must be getting upset at something to have so many writers killed. Justin had found his way out the front door, as the call for the block was also a call for everyone to come stand witness.

A large man slung a wide tree stump on to his shoulder and began waddling his way to the guillotine. Out in the square people were already ringing about the platform so they could get a view of this gruesome act.

The Crier stepped up on to the platform and unfurled a parchment. “The writer Ryan James McAuley, Son of Frank, Son of James, is here by to be executed for having lost the ability to write.” He looked over his shoulder at a tall man, who was bound at the wrist with thick coarse rope, being pushed and jostled toward the platform. “Have you any last words?”

A mix of confusion and anger contorted the writer’s face as he replied, “I have not lost the ability to write, I just have writer’s block!” Snickers and laughs rippled through the crowd. “I have merely ran out of ideas for the moment, and this is no reason to be put to death!” As he spoke the words his eyes scanned the crowd. For several seconds they seemed to lock upon Justin, something in his eyes made his heart skip a beat or two.

This was almost the same speech every writer gave as he was pushed toward his fate. You would think that with their almost infinite imagination that they would be able to come up with something not already said. The Crier turned back to the crowd almost before the writer had finished pleading, looking and acting as if he had not heard a word of what was just spoken. “Having said those words, this changes nothing. We will now proceed with the…”

“I can write again! I have an idea.” The outburst caused the muted buzz to stop and the Crier to turn about, mouth hanging open, to look at the writer. “Untie me and give me quill, ink, and parchment. I will prove that I can write.”

The beefy guard that had carried the block looked to the Crier, then untied the thick rope after being motioned to. A boy came jogging through the crowd with the requested objects. Motioning the boy to put them on the block, the writer sat himself down right there and began to scribble, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth twisting and writhing as he wrote. Hours later, and several ink jars, the writer was led back to the Writer's Den, within the castle.

Dawn broke, and Justin found himself leaping out of his house, protests from his mother to slow or he might hurt himself followed him to the nearest news board. He wanted to find out what had happened to that writer, what was his name again? People had been crowding around it and as some left others pushed forward to read what was written.

The short story itself was posted. The first sentence made Justin’s eyes go wide. It began with “ ‘Bring out the Writer’s Block!’ Justin looked up as the cry rang through the city.”

Reviews

[Jenny Davis]

You have a true talent for making a story come alive. What a cool twist on writer's block...killed writers, haha, who would of thunk it? Really good story :)

[Lorelei Middlesex]

Amazing putting to use of writer's block.

[Steven Szepietowski]

Hilarious, and terribly inventive! The execution of writers for writer's block reminded me of Samuel Butler's "erehwon", where many similar wacky things are indeed put into law in the city. The ending is great!

[Rie Sheridan Rose]

Wonderful piece! See, "write what you know" does work! ;) This is a cool piece, and something that we can all look to for inspiration now and then. Putting it in my library.