A waste of time

I walked along the park to clear my mind. As I sat at the bench, I saw a damsel in distress , stuck in a tree, calling for her knight in shining armour to come. A few minutes later, the knight was fighting a witch beside the tree. He struggled but still killed the witch. The damsel was rescued and they lived happily ever after.

I took my notebook from my bag together with, my pen. As the point touched the paper, the damsel , the knight and the witch all disappeared. A white flash devoured my eyes. As I open them again, I wasn’t in the park anymrore. I was sitting in a room of white, with only a chair and a desk inside. As I tried to touch my pen, I couldn’t. It’s like an invisible shield was keeping it away from it. I pushed and struggled to take the pen but still failed. I screamed and screamed. Then, I realized, I’m the words and stories in my mind, struggling inside, yearning to escape and be together with me, the pen and paper. I continued screaming, then a cackling voice stopped me. The walls became transparent and a spotlight flashed on the other side. The witch appeared with the wrinkled grin and laughed fiendishly...

That’s my version of writer’s block.