Everything is ready. Pen. Paper. Hot cocoa mug. The light is just right. Chair is good with the right amount of pillows. All the housework is done for the week. No distractions. I can finally do what I've been planning to do all day. Sit my ass down and write.

Desi, my cat, jumps up onto the desk. She needs a good scratch before I can start.

Okay, now I'm ready.

I lift my pen and stare at the paper. I write 'Chapter one: the...'

I've blanked. I stare at the paper.

It should have been gone now. I did everything first. Fucking writer's block.

I've been stuck for ages.

"Meow." My cat has the audacity to just sit there and meow at me.

I pick up the pen again. This is hard.

A growing shadow falls across the paper. It wants to devour my poor excuse for work.

"Go away," I say, but the shadow keeps growing and growing. It grows untill it could swallow the entire desk. I refuse to look at it. I'm gonna write now.

A wet drops lands on my paper. Spit. Above I hear a hissing sound. It wants to demand my attention. I count to ten inside me. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I can't do it. I look up.

Thick heavy monster paws rest heavily on my desk. There is nothing cute about what I see. Desi is a cute cat. What's above me is not Desi.

Saliva drips from the tips of sharp canines. Sharp yellow eyes pierce into me. Hot cadavre breath wafths up my nose.

Desi is a small cat. The beast before me could swallow me whole and still have space for dessert. The beast opens its mouth.

I recoil in fear.

A heavy paw lifts up and lands on my hand. Sharp talons digs into my hand, drawing blood.

I clench my teeth against the pain.

With the talons embedded in me, the beast moves its paw, lifts it.

I dare not make a sound.

Joint, talons and hand, hover above the paper. Yellow eyes bore into me. Conveying meaning.

The talons retract, and my hand falls down to the paper.

Gingerly, I move the pen to write. The shadow lessens. I dare to breathe.

'Chapter one: the fearsome beast.'

The shadow goes away.

I blink. Some imagination. Better get back to writing.

Drops of red dribbles from my hand and onto the paper, staining the white. Those talons were sharp.