F. Jason Whitaker Writer

I hope to get back to writing soon...

I need to write more but at the moment I am not often in the mood to write. I need to write more, somehow...

I have not been writing as I had planned. I did some writing one day but I have not written since then. I need to write each day. I need to finish some writing and upload it to Amazon. Maybe no one will buy my writing but at least I will have gave it a try. I am hopeful about my writing.

I am going making a change to this blog. Instead of writing a short story each day I will discuss my writing. I have a few writing projects that I need to focus on instead of writing short stories here.

Somewhere I hear the sounds of sirens. It's night and I am in bed. I sit up in bed, dream still fresh on my head, trying to figure out what day it is. each day seems the same when you do nothing all day. I look at my phone. No reason to have a phone anymore. I have no one to call or text. I'm here alone wondering if these bad dreams will ever end.

The door is closed. I have checked it twice. I ran home as fast as I could. My legs ache. I need to rest but there's not time to rest. I must look out the windows. I must know if I had been followed or not. The room is quiet. The house is quiet. I imagine sounds from other parts of the house. Am I afraid of the dark? No, just certain things that come out in the dark.

In a dream I recall what occurred. The snow falls around me. It's cold but I walk on. I can smell Winter all around me. It's everywhere. My feet create sounds that echo as the snow crunches beneath me. I am not alone. There is someone following me. When I step I hear their step. They are trying to hide their sounds by walking when I walk but it does not work. I do not run. I walk slowly through the trees. I can see where the woods ends and the railroad tracks separate the woods from the Kmart parking lot. I am almost there. I can hear the Salvation Army bell ringing. I can hear shoppers enter and exit the store. A wind blows past me. A chill runs up and down my spine. It's almost as if the person behind me has breathed upon my neck.  I walk. My feet move forward. I wake to silence. My room. The planets hanging from the ceiling, glowing in the dark, and my cat Tiger at my feet sound asleep. It was a dream but it was more than a dream: it was a memory.