The Blank page stared BACK.
Chapter 7: The Blank Page Stared Back
This wasn't the glamorous writer's life Manon had imagined. She'd pictured herself in a cozy café, effortlessly crafting brilliant prose, not hunched over a laptop, battling a stubborn case of writer's block.
The cursor on her screen blinked, a tiny, mocking pulse against the vast white expanse of the document. Thirty-one times she'd refreshed the page, hoping for inspiration to magically appear. Nothing.
She sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. The bridge felt warm against her skin. Her eyes ached from staring. Her once-tidy bun had come undone, strands of dark hair framing her frustrated face. She rubbed her temples, feeling a dull throb behind her eyes.
What am I supposed to write? she thought, the question echoing in the silence of her room. I'm completely blank. I haven't slept properly in days.
A desperate thought sparked: "Coffee!" She shoved her chair back with a squeak, the wheels rattling on the wooden floor. She practically flew down the stairs, the worn carpet a blur beneath her feet.
She skidded to a stop in front of the kitchen, the warm, comforting aroma of dinner filling the air. Her mom, her hands moving with practiced ease, was stirring a pot on the stove. Andrien, ever the tease, was setting the table.
"Well, well, if it isn't the reclusive novelist," Andrien said, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Since when did you trade your pen for a keyboard?"
Manon rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. She wrapped her arms around her mom, burying her face in her shoulder. "Mom, I'm so exhausted. My brain feels like a deflated balloon."
Her mom patted her back gently. "Oh, sweetie. You look like you haven't seen daylight in days."
"Daylight? That's been Manon's default setting for years," Andrien chimed in, handing her a steaming mug. "Here, caffeine. Your brain's best friend." He glanced at the stove, then back at Manon. "Now, stop bothering Mom and let her cook."
Manon chuckled, peeking into the pot. "Mom, is that my favorite stew?" A sudden idea flickered in her mind, bright and clear. "Mom, I know what to write!" She grabbed her coffee, nearly spilling it in her haste, and dashed back upstairs.
"My new novel," she declared to her empty room, "will be my masterpiece! The story that will make me a legend!" She stared at the blank screen, a surge of determination filling her. "This is it. My big break!" She grabbed a hair tie, securing her hair in a tight ponytail, and slid her glasses back on.
Chapter 1: The Bracelet's Glow
Another morning, another boring day, Manon thought, stretching in her bed. Sunlight streamed through her window, casting long shadows across her room. Wait... what's that glowing?
She glanced down at her wrist. Her silver bracelet, a gift from her grandmother, was emitting a soft, pulsating light. It was a warm, inviting glow, like a tiny, captured star.
"Whoa," she breathed, her eyes widening. "This... this could actually work!" A whirlwind of ideas filled her mind. She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor.
She rushed to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Words poured out of her, a torrent of imagination. She wrote about a girl who discovered a magical bracelet, a portal to another world. She wrote about hidden kingdoms and daring adventures.
Hours melted away. Before she knew it, she'd written three chapters, each one more exciting than the last. She stood up, her legs stiff from sitting, a triumphant grin on her face. Four thousand words! Her personal best. She'd even chosen a beautiful, ethereal image for the book cover.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She wandered into her bedroom, her steps slow and heavy. She grabbed her beloved stuffed bunny, Mr. Fluffernutter, and collapsed onto her bed. The online editing process would take a week, but she was already buzzing with anticipation. She closed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. Tonight, she would dream of magical bracelets and faraway lands.