....... "I just couldn't get a straight idea in my head." He said this one day he went to buy groceries as he was standing before the counter. "It is as if my head is empty."
"It happened to all writers. You will get the hang of it." She had said this with a reassuring smile that lifted his spirits for the day.
On the thirtieth day of his stay at the hotel, he stood up from his bed and sat at the vintage wooden table, opened his laptop to check where he had gotten to in his book. To his surprise, he had not typed a sentence; the word document was blank; he was yet to write his first sentence.
He slumped back on the bed; he suddenly realized that all the time he had spent at the hotel had been a fruitless waste of time, energy, and money. A sudden reality hit him; he was worse than he had come. His creative skills had reduced to nonexistent. The realization saddened him; a once-great creative writer is wallowing in the pool of writing emptiness.
He decided it was time to leave. He couldn’t achieve anything great as his Mum had promised. He was in this disappointing state where sleep came to take him away to another realm. He was brought back to life by the annoying buzz of the telephone receiver. He walked with wobbly legs to his desk, half awake, half in the dream world. He picked the receive;
“What is it?” He said through clenched teeth because he was woken roughly by the phone.
“Sorry to disturb you, you have a package.”
"A package, okay, I am coming for it.” He sure was startled because nobody except for his Mum knew he was staying in France. He was not expecting a package.
He walked out of his room, not so awake. He went through the passage and entered the elevator, which took him down. He collected the small package from the receptionist and headed back to his room. The package was roughly wrapped with old purple wrapping nylon, and it was small, like a small pocket novel which was a little bigger than his palm.
Immediately he entered his room, he unwrapped the package and found a notebook with rough black leather cover; the book looks very old, like an ancient relic of a particular family. He opened the book, and a strange sensation went through him that his body shivered. He wasn’t completely awake, so he thought it was the sleep that was playing tricks on him. He went back to sleep still in his depressed state and went into a deep sleep. That was when it all started.
