Creative Writing
This is from 2014 but has really fucking strong fnaf sun/moon vibes lmgo
Also on Deviantart: The Writer’s Craft: A Memoir by phyllix
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My goal is to write every day for a week.
“Fill those two pages with anything that comes to mind,” says the Creative Writing Course, as it interrupts my solitary peace and sits down heavily on the chair beside me.
It smiles with a closed mouth and dead eyes. The face of the Creative Writing Course folds in on itself. Its eyebrows come together and touch its nostrils. The corners of its mouth twist upwards and squish its eyes.
I kick the Course’s chair hard, and chair and Course both fall to the ground. The shock of the landing pushes the Course’s face to one side. The Course simultaneously lies on its front and stares at the ceiling.
“I never really liked that lamp shade of yours.” Suggests the whispering voice from the floor. The Course smiles up at me, expecting an answer. I pick up my pen and write, but the things I write never follow the suggestions of others. I’m just demonstrating my lack of enthusiasm for anything that convenient free Course has to say. I’m not even composing coherent sentences. The spider scrawl on the paper does not resemble the Course’s opinion of my lamp shade. It hardly resembles English at all.
The Creative Writing Course hauls itself to its feet. It leans over me, surveying my work. Its eyebrows reach so far down they come to rest on its top lip.
“Those aren’t words.” The Course objects, and its eyebrows jump three times, pushed by its mouth.
“I asked you to write.” It hisses, and its bony fingers drum on the back of my chair.
“You asked me to fill pages.” I mutter irritably. “I’m filling pages. Now pick up that chair.” I add, gesturing to the fallen comrade beside us.
The Course reluctantly returns the chair to its upright position, but leaves it at a forty five degree angle next to the table. It exits through the doorway, hissing, searching for another writer to torment.
