A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

Weeks later, away from Lila and the untethered space, I felt distant. It started with editing, hopeful of the brutal story of death thanks to a suffering writer, but that idea relied on the deaths of characters. Soon enough into writing, I started thinking just how much I did not want them to die, and while some could enjoy the struggle, many would not enjoy this endless killing of the main characters in various strange circumstances. It was an idea, like many which lived in the void, sourced exactly there for both the portraits and the stories Harry wrote. After that drive to edit and complete that dark story faded, I disappeared into work unrelated to writing. I was not sure how many days had passed since I left the three of them, but I missed their happiness. I wanted to recharge. I entered the untethered space through the little room below the library again, creating a spiral staircase near the windows connecting the two. While I could just float up and through the divide, I decide...

I had not returned in weeks. Why bother? Kara and Lila were happy with Tarne. I was the third wheel, fourth now. I was back for a specific reason, but had a feeling I would not be able to complete my goal. For the sake of remembering Lila, I wanted to draw her. I had been drawing things, since I did not know anyone who could help me illustrate things in my writing. I would have to be able to put my ideas on paper myself, in more than just description. I still sucked at describing things. My mind sourced my words on things I have seen, which differed person to person. To appeal to mass populace, writers often used long-winded descriptions based on common life objects that anyone with an ounce of imagination could picture. I just could not patchwork it all to make sense, but drawing would help me with that. When I arrived at the space created from the remnant of Rebecca’s domain, I found the library empty. The upstairs and the attic were equally still. I even knocked at the door to the b...