https://Voice.club - He wanted to write a dark story, but inspiration wasn’t coming to him. Pressed for time, as the contest would close in two days, he stood by his window in the stillness of the night, gazing at the full moon. Suddenly, he looked out at the field adjacent to his house and saw dark, moving shadows. He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he looked at the field again, the shadows had vanished. Immediately, he went to his table, pulled out a book, and began to write.
“You don’t write a dark story when your eyes haven’t seen the strange,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, looking at her.
She turned to look at him. Smiling, she replied, “Dark stories come from the depths of the soul. They arise from encounters with the elements of the night.”
“Elements of the night!” he exclaimed.
“Yes. The elements of the night are unseen forces cloaked in darkness but revealed in another realm.”
“Where is this other realm?” he asked, looking surprised.
“The other realm is where the soul travels to when the body says goodnight," she said, fixing her gaze on him.
“I think I know when the body says goodnight. That’s when we’re asleep,” he replied, gesturing with his finger.
A brief silence followed.
“There’s a field ahead of a dark writer. This field blossoms as they journey through encounters with and the subjugation of the unseen. Son, are you ready for this?” she asked.
“But Mum, how do you know all this?” he wondered.
“Your grandfather was a dark writer—a talented one, but also troubled. He used to say, ‘The more successful you are in the dark genre, the more you need to seek perpetual light.’”
“Oh, I never knew Grandpa was a dark writer,” he said, surprised.
“Yes. He didn’t want his grandchildren to know; he didn’t want any of them to go down that path.”
Suddenly, he woke up.
“Oh, Mum, how I wish you were truly here. I miss you so much,” he whispered.