Short Shorts IV

I'm not so sure about this one. See what you think...

Under the skin

They all tried to discourage me.
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s a vocation, not a job.”
“You have to be really sure.”
What else can I do? Writing is either in you or it’s not. Ultimately there isn’t a choice.
I take my inspiration from the great writers. They really understood how you had to suffer for your art.
Changes are happening to my body- growth spurt, course dark hair, oily skin, angry pustules. Today I feel like a man, tall and hirsute. I check out the reflection and nod. Twisting slightly, I can see in particular one red spot in a field of pretenders, mere pimples in comparison. It looks promising, throbbing slightly and ready to burst. With a mixture of pride and revulsion, I attack the place using my bitten down nails. It’s not as easy as I thought it might be. One day I’ll be good at this, discovering the treasure beneath, allowing the contents to spill. But today I’m not so good. I make the spot more painful and the raised head seems to shrink back into my skin. I pick and pick and there is no relief.
And then it happens. The surface of the skin breaks and out spill words, undamaged by the whole scratching process. Like the birth of a corn snake they coil and pulse, seeming slippery and fresh. I have paper ready to place them and I urge them on, fingertips showing more delicacy this time. They unravel slowly and settle onto their new home. Fresh words, hatched from me! My career as a writer has begun! I smooth them down as their glossiness fades and they are indistinguishable from the paper home I have given them. I read the sentence just six words long. It’s a start.
My attention turns to the small lesion which is still leaking fluid. It is a good start but still quite small. How big must the boils be when whole stories erupt? I know now why this isn’t a path that you can walk without preparedness. But I’m on that path now! I’ve proved all those doubters wrong. It’s within me, always has been.


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