Writer's Block

           At thirty-four years of age, Eleanor had proven herself to be a well-respected and talented writer. With six of her ten published novels on the “Best Seller” list, Eleanor was now expected to write yet another money-maker. Her publishing company had given her eight months to come up with new material.

           That was six months ago and so far, Eleanor had not written more than the first paragraph. She was suffering from writer’s block. As soon as an idea had struck her, something would distract her thoughts and the idea would be gone into the abyss.

           As her income began to increase from the book sales, Eleanor had decided to move out of her dingy one-bedroom apartment in Newark, New Jersey to a two-bedroom apartment on West 54^th Street in Manhattan, New York. She wanted to get away from gang violence and drug deals that happened daily in her old neighborhood and now it was substituted with constant phone calls from her publisher and many of the acquaintances that he had made since she found fame.

           After months of distractions, she decided to rent a cottage in Morris, Connecticut for a month or two so she could concentrate on her writing. She packed up her laptop, pads of paper, pencils, and enough clothes to get her through at least a month of chilly winter weather then headed North along I-684 toward Connecticut.

           The two-hour drive turned into a three-hour drive as the snow began to fall silently upon the Interstate, making the roads a little more treacherous, but she still arrived safely at a small cabin on a farm, miles from any other homes.

           The log cabin looked so inviting as she pulled up the driveway. The property was surrounded by white pines that were blanketed by fresh-fallen snow. It was majestic to gaze upon. Standing on the porch as she arrived, was an elderly man wearing a red-checkered fur-lined jacket with a hat to match. He waved at her and smiled as he limped haphazardly across the slippery planks.

           “You must be Eleanor,” the man announced as she exited her vehicle.

           “Yes, I am, and you must be Mr. Watson, right?”

           “Yes, that’s correct, but you can call me Ernie.”

           “Okay, Ernie then. It is very nice to meet you.”

           “Let me help you with your things, Eleanor. You get inside out of the cold.”

           “Nonsense,” she stated as she watched him stagger uneasily toward her. “I am quite capable of handling these myself. I will meet you inside. Thank you anyhow.”

           “Very well. I will go put the kettle on and boil some water in case you want something hot to drink.”

           “Thank you, Ernie, that would be lovely.”

           As she walked into the cabin, she was pleasantly surprised at how well-kept it appeared. It was decorated in a rustic style with an outdoorsy feel to it. The antlers of a buck were hanging proudly on the wall and a stone hearth surrounded the woodburning fireplace where Ernie now sat in one of two wingback chairs awaiting Eleanor. A pot of hot water sat on a table between the two chairs with two cups and saucers.

           “What is your pleasure, madam? Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa?”

           “Tea would be wonderful, thank you. Just a little milk if you don’t mind.”

           Ernie prepared her tea and sat it down in front of Eleanor.

           “If you need more wood, I have a woodshed out back that is stocked up full, so you should have enough to last you through your stay here. Remember to open the flue when you are ready to light it or you will end up with a room full of smoke. I stocked the fridge, deep freeze, and cupboards with enough food to last for at least a month. Well, a month for me because I am a big eater, so maybe two months for you.”

           Eleanor smiled and thanked Ernie for his kindness. They finished their tea and before he left, he reminded Eleanor that there was no cellphone service where they were, so if she needed to reach him, she would need to use the landline that was mounted on the wall by the kitchen. She thanked him once more, and watched as his 4x4 Jeep Comanche disappeared through a wall of white.

           The storm seemed to increase in strength as the night drew closer, but Eleanor had not seemed to notice. She sat by the fire with a shawl wrapped across her shoulders and fuzzy pink slippers were upon her feet. Her laptop was charged up and she was ready to get started.

           Without the usual distractions, Eleanor was finally able to let her mind rest and the words seemed to flow out of her. The story was about two young lovers lost on an uncharted island and the struggles that they faced both physically and emotionally. It was nothing like she had ever written before.

           After a few hours, Eleanor had finished a rough draft of the first five chapters, but before she could start onto the sixth chapter, the wind began to pick up, and a mix of ice and snow pelted the windows repeatedly. Eleanor was not overly concerned. She had nowhere to go, so as long as the windows did not break, she would be fine.

           Halfway through the night, Eleanor had awakened. She must have dozed off while writing. The room was in almost complete darkness. The only light came from the simmering embers in the fireplace. She quickly stoked the fire and added more wood. The air in the cabin had dropped drastically, so she sat close to the fireplace to absorb the slightest bit of warmth that emanated from the building fire.

As the fire grew stronger, she found her way to the front door where she tried to flick on the light switch, but nothing happened. She tried the light switch by the kitchen, but again, nothing happened. After trying every switch around the cabin, she was finally convinced that the power had failed. She assumed that the storm must have knocked down the power lines, or something. There was nothing she could do about it until the storm passed, so she went upstairs to the loft and crawled underneath the thick, down-filled comforters, and fell back to sleep.

In the morning when she woke up, Eleanor went back downstairs to add more wood to the fire. Her supply inside was already beginning to dwindle, so she looked outside to see if the weather had improved. The storm had not yet passed, but it had eased off substantially. She bundled up in her warmest clothes and ventured outside to the woodshed in the back of the cabin.

As she was leaving the woodshed with the first armful of wood, she noticed something unusual. A set of human footprints circled from the back of the shed and around to the other side of the cabin. She rushed back inside and set the wood down by the hearth before taking a second look at the footprints. She followed the tracks around until they disappeared without a trace.

Eleanor, with her heart rate now increasing, rushed back to the front of the cabin and locked the door behind her as she entered. She stood there for a few minutes watching out of the window to see if she could spot anyone on the property, but nobody appeared. She was craving a coffee or tea to calm her nerves, but with no power, she could not heat the water on the stove.

Instead, she decided to call Ernie and ask him if he had been at the cabin today. She thought that they could have been his footprints that she saw. First, she took out her cellphone, but then she remembered that there is no service in that area, so she picked up the receiver for the landline. It was dead. Not even a dial tone.

Panic started to set in, and she nervously wandered from one window to another searching for signs of movement. As the hours started to pass, so did her nervousness. She realized that whoever left those prints must have left the property by now, so she sat back down by the fire and picked up her laptop.

The battery was at ten percent life, so she just read over what she had last written, then continued her story the old-fashioned way, with pencil and paper. It was exhilarating in a way to be writing without the aid of electronics. She had finished another two chapters before she started getting hungry. Unable to cook anything on the stove, she made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

After her belly was temporarily satisfied, she sat back down with her pad and paper when she heard a vehicle pull up. She rushed to the door and saw Ernie’s truck pulling up in front of the cabin. She waited for him to reach the porch and opened the door for her unexpected guest.

“Ernie, what a pleasant surprise! I am happy to see you.”

“Hello, Eleanor. I just came to check up on you after that storm we had last night. The power was knocked out all over the place.”

“Yes, the power went out here too and the phone line is out too.”

“I will let the phone company know so they can send a crew out here to fix the phone line. I’m told the power should be back on by tonight or tomorrow at the latest.”

“That is great news, Ernie. By the way, you didn’t come by here early this morning, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Well, I saw some footprints going around the cabin, but I haven’t seen anyone around.”

“That sounds odd. There shouldn’t be anybody around here for miles. Maybe it was someone that just got lost in the storm last night. I’m sure it is nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, you are probably right. Are you going to come in for a visit?”

“Thanks, but no. I need to get back into town and get to the phone company before they close today.”

“Okay, drive safely. It was nice seeing you again.”

Ernie limped back to his Jeep and drove off. Eleanor waited by the door until she saw his taillights disappear then sat back down to write.

Nightfall came sooner than expected and Eleanor’s power was not yet back on, so she decided to go up to her bed and get some sleep. She changed into some warm pajamas and covered up on the cozy bed. Moments later she fell asleep.

           Eleanor felt a pressure upon her chest during the night. She awakened to find a bearded man straddled over her. He held a knife in his right hand. Once she realized that it was not a dream, Eleanor began to scream.

           “Yell all you want, lady. Ain’t nobody around here to help you.”

           Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she gasped for breath.

           “What do you want? Do you want money? I can get you money if that’s what you are after.”

           “I don’t want your money, lady,” he said as he licked his lips.

           Eleanor remembered a self defense course that she took when she was living in Newark and it was now a moment of fight or flight, so with all the strength she could muster, she brought her right knee forward, striking her attacker in the back of his head. Using his disorientation against him, she pushed him off her and ran down the stairs, tripping on the last step and falling face-first into the hard floor.

           She rolled over in pain and saw a rifle mounted on a stand above her head. She forced her sore body to stand and she reached for the gun just as the bearded man began to make his way down the stairs. Eleanor pointed the gun in his direction.  

           “Get out of here or I will shoot you!” she commanded.

           “You ain’t got the guts, lady,” her attacker said as he inched forward.

           “Don’t make me do this. I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave right now.”

           The man began to lunge forward toward Eleanor, and she pulled the trigger. Nothing. The gun was not loaded. The man paused momentarily at the click of the rifle’s hammer, then after realizing his luck, he continued his attack.

           Eleanor turned the rifle around and swung it at the head of the stranger but missed. She swung again, but this time, he grabbed the butt of the gun and pulled it from her grasp. Knocking Eleanor to the ground, he grabbed the rifle in both hands, and reaching over his head, he prepared to pummel her with it.

           Just then, the door swung open. The man turned toward the sound only in time to see the flash of a muzzle and hear the explosion of a shotgun shell moments before it entered his chest.

           Eleanor watched as her assailant fell lifelessly onto the floor by her feet. She turned her head toward the door and saw Ernie standing in the doorway with a shotgun in his hands still aimed toward her attacker.

           “Ernie, you saved my life!” Eleanor expressed with gratitude. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

           “I got thinking about those tracks you saw yesterday and then I heard on the radio about some guy that the police were looking for. He was wanted for murdering a family not far from here. I grabbed my shotgun and started back here when I saw tracks from an ATV cutting across the road and into the woods behind the cabin. I parked my truck and walked the rest of the way so I could catch him by surprise. I heard you screaming and knew he was in here with you.”

           “I will never be able to repay you, Ernie.”

           “I’ll tell you what; you make me a character in your next book, and we can call it even, deal?”

           “Deal. You will be the hero in my story. I will send you a copy of the book when it gets published too.”

           “I’d appreciate that, Eleanor. I’ll tell you what; why don’t you spend a few days with my wife and me until your power is back on? We have an extra room where you will have plenty of privacy to finish your book.”

           “That sounds great, Ernie! Are you sure your wife won’t mind?”

           “Are you kidding? She would be happy to have another woman around to talk to once in a while. We will call the police from my place.”

           “Thank you for everything, Ernie. I will gather my things so we can leave.”

           Two months later, Eleanor received a call from her publisher. They loved the book and started printing copies to distribute. When Eleanor received her copies, she signed a copy for Ernie and sent it to him.

           Inside, Eleanor had written an inscription that read, “To Ernie, my real-life hero. You will never be forgotten.”

           Ernie finished reading the novel in two days. He was excited to find out where he was mentioned in the story. In the last chapter, the young couple was rescued by a brave sailor named, Ernest who, despite his injured leg, helped them fight off an attack by savages from deep within the island’s forest, then sailed them off into the sunset. Ernie closed the book and smiled.