Haptic Tinnitus

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click.’

The writer typed away at the keyboard, editing the same story she had been working on for months. The story wasn’t going the way she wanted, the characters were misbehaving, and that ever-elusive perfect opening sentence was still a mile away. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Maybe it’s time to shelf this one too…”

Closing the document, she turned off the computer for the night and got ready for bed. She crawled under the covers and ruminated on the story again, wondering what she was doing wrong with it. Before long, her mind drifted to new enticing ideas; starting a different project might be the solution since this one just wasn’t working out. And dreaming of those new stories, she fell asleep.

But unbeknownst to her, the words she had uttered aloud were a curse. 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

The writer’s eyes flew open. She sat up fast and looked at the computer. The lid was still closed, but she could hear it, clear as day.

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

She covered her ears, but the haptics continued like tinnitus. 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

Maybe she was dreaming. She laid back down and closed her eyes.

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

Nope. 

She got up and walked to the computer. Maybe it was still on and a key was stuck. She opened the lid, but the screen was dark and none of the keys moved. Still the noise persisted. Maybe she could drown it out at least. She grabbed a pair of headphones and turned on her favorite lo-fi study mix.

Tick, tap, tick, tap,- Click, click, clickity, click-click - tick, tap, tick, tap.

She cranked the volume and blasted her favorite alt-rock song instead. 

CLICK, CLICK, CLICKITY, CLICK-CLICK.

She ripped the headphones out of her ears and screamed. 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

A few tears slipped out and she sank to her knees. 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

She looked back at the computer; if she had to hear the haptics anyway, might as well get some work done. She dragged it off the desk into her lap, opening the previous story she had been working on. Maybe she could even edit that ever-elusive perfect first sentence again.

‘C-click-lick, cl-click-ick, cli-clickckity, clic-clickk-click-click’ 

They overlapped in her ears, but somehow the words were flowing easier now than they had been earlier. Maybe the story had been calling out to her, begging her to not quit in the middle, like she had done to so many others. She wrote page after page, until the sun peered in her window the next morning to witness the finished manuscript. She typed ‘The End’ and the clicks stopped. After a blink of surprise, she heaved a great sigh of relief. 

Her body swayed with exhaustion. She closed the computer, shut the curtain, and collapsed in bed. Despite the pull of gravity on her eyelids, she tossed and turned, thinking about the ending she had just typed out. Was that really the best way to leave the story? Could she have made it stronger if she had committed to killing off the mentor character in the second act? 

She sat up and opened the computer again, starting a new draft and deleting the last few paragraphs. 

‘Click’ 

“No…” 

‘Click, click”’ 

“Stop…”

‘Click, click, clickity’ 

“Ugh!!” She groaned, throwing her hands over her ears.

‘Click-click!’

She’d been wandering around her house all day in a daze, drinking cup after cup of tea, somehow trying to come to peace with the haptic tinnitus. Then she remembered, it had stopped when she had written ‘The End.’

She flew back to the keyboard and typed those words at the end of the document. 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

Her head fell onto the desk top. 

Maybe it was her other unfinished works calling out for attention this time. She opened every half-finished story stowed away in the bowels of Google Drive and Reedsy Studio, typing ‘The End’ after ‘The End’ to the point she could have made a short story out of them. As she typed the last ‘The End,’ her fingers slowly pressing each key in anticipation, she hit the final ‘d’ and…

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

She grabbed fistfuls of hair and screamed again. 

Head down on the coffee table, she stared blankly at the wall like a deer waiting in a pair of headlights for impact. A knock sounded at the door and she weakly called out ‘Come in.’ A good friend opened the door and looked over at the writer slumped over. 

“What’s wrong with you?” They asked, taking up a seat on the couch. 

“I’ve been hearing noises all day. I think I’m going crazy.” 

“Dude, welcome to the club. What noises do you hear?” They asked, adjusting the throw pillow to get comfortable. 

“Keyboard clicks, on repeat, all day.” 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

“Brutal. When did they start?” 

“Last night as I went to bed.” 

“Anything help?”

The writer lifted their head and shook it. “It stopped once, when I finished my recent story, but started again soon after when I went back to edit it.”

“Wait, you actually finished something?” The friend laughed. “Like really finished it? Not just slapped ‘the end’ on it and called it a night?”

“Yes, I really finished it!” The writer scoffed. “And it was actually a decent story, thank you very much.”

“So why did you go back to change it?” 

“It wasn’t good enough…” 

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

“For who? You just said it was a decent story and I for one would’ve loved to read a finished work from you for once. The snippets I’ve read over the years have been great.” 

“You would?”

“Well of course. You have good ideas and a good voice, but if you never finish them, you can’t share them with people.”

‘Click, click, clickity, click-click’ 

The writer put a hand to her chin. “Well… let me finish this one again and if you don’t mind beta-reading for me, I’ll wait to edit it this time until I’ve gotten your feedback.” 

“Sounds good to me!” The friend grinned.

The writer sat back at her desk, interrupting the haptic tinnitus with the haptics of a writer high on inspiration. Finally, she typed “The End” again and leaned back with pride. 

The clicks stopped.

Relief passed through her and she rubbed her panda eyes from two days without sleep. Stumbling into bed like a zombie, she ran through the story in her head one last time. 

Maybe she could improve that ever-elusive perfect opening sentence if she just-

‘Click…’

“Nevermind,” she said aloud with a laugh. “I’m sure it’s fine just the way it is.”

And she slept, and slept, and slept without the slightest haptic to be heard, even in her story filled dreams.