magic_fratboy

Writer's Block Meme

1. On the first night, write a single sentence that could appear at any point in your eventual story.
2. On the second night, write a paragraph of a minimum five sentences, including the original sentence.
3. On the third night, complete five paragraphs including the one written the night prior.
4. On the last night, finish your story!
5. At any point, you make take one 'night off' as a pass.

He had a little bit of martial arts training, and he had the power to stop his own heart, but overall Tommy knew very little, intellectually, about meditation.

Calling his Fraternity brothers and sisters didn’t help much, none of their answers or advice were the same. Too little or too much, they told him, in the dark or in the light, on the floor and in a bed or a chair. There was no consistency to be had. If he had even one common thread, one fact to latch onto he could have gone the distance but he had nothing. He was as he had been in his days as Houdini: living by his wits, scraping by on borrowed pennies and sharing ill-nourished game foraged from the wild roadsides.

He was the one who asked the question, and he alone was the one who had the answer. His brain was the key that would set him free. It was the only key he had.

So he chose a room and locked the door. He shut the lights and opened the curtains wide. The dark room, illuminated by desert sunshine, softened into pale, vibrant hues that called him to the place he knew he had to go. He left no music on, but opened a window. The sounds of the street and the natural world outside sang a soothing melody as he moved to the center of the room.

Stretching his arms out on either side, he sank down slowly and shut his eyes. The old, familiar burn came, slow and steady as the minutes passed...he kept his shoulders loose and didn't fight it. It had been years since he'd held a square horse stance for so long, but the muscles were still strong and the body remembered where to banish the pain. It still felt right, familiar.

Pain became heat, heat burned and created more pain. It rolled through him in slow, rhythmic waves, rocking him though he didn't move. His breath moved, in and out, keeping time with the flames slowly licking up his legs and torso.

By the time it reached his arms, his fingertips, the pain was gone. He was warm all over, and already worlds away.

He was in a world of steel and alloy, heat colliding with the smooth cool surface of a cam and tumblers. He was surrounded by the purpose, by the functionality of that compact bundle that stood between one and another. Gravity was the key, the weight of each pin pushed back by the intricate beauty of the cut plate that defied it. Into the dark, removing the barrier with a twist, a push…and there was nothing. It was a beautiful dance, a song of human accomplishment that had the power to bind things as his people could not. It stood against his purpose, his mission, to remove barriers and bring freedom…

He was still warm. The cool touch of metal was an illusion like all things. The lock wasn’t manmade, it was something else. It was his to open, as all things were. Whether or not it was his place, his job, or even his right, he couldn’t fight his nature. Within the lock, he moved through the cam and lifted the pins until he felt the click…

Pressure gave around him as the lock came open.

It had been years since he'd held a square horse stance for so long, but the muscles were still strong and the body remembered where to banish the pain.