This morning I woke up with a migraine. This happens from time to time, nothing much to do regarding it. Take some pain meds and tough it out. Stay away from bright lights, that sort of thing. Normally I would have just stayed home from work today, but I have a meeting that I can’t miss this afternoon so low and behold I am toughing it out. The medication only started working about twenty minutes ago, but I can at least think for the time being. Might have to take some more, probably in the next few minutes to make sure I am at least functioning at a level above “lump of flesh in a chair”.
I was honestly thinking of writing a short, short story regarding the agony I’ve been feeling today. But just the mere thought of that made my head hurt more, which I can’t imagine is a good thing. When your thoughts make your head physically hurt, there is something most definitely wrong with that.
I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a short story, based on a character that only briefly shows up in the novel. I find her origin fascinating, but due to the relatively small roll she has in the story there isn’t any justification. And given how violently her brief appearance and demise is in the novel proper, giving her back story would be nothing more that a pointless venture. At least, if it was contained within the novel itself.
The problem is that I don’t know if I could ever make myself write something that depressing. This girl is kidnapped, experimented on, and eventually changed into something not human. Something that has never existed before, with terrible consequences. Her mind snaps through it all, focusing all of her hatred and rage on the man who did this all to her.
Ten years ago, in my darker days, I would have jumped at this concept. Hell, back then I’d already be writing it. Those kinds of dark, twisted stories appealed to me. Why? No idea. I wasn’t a violent person then, and I’m not now. I guess the ideas of things we can’t begin to comprehend, the unimaginable horrors that wait just inches beyond our understanding, were the main draw. But I just don’t think I have it in me to actually put down the events on paper. Perhaps I’ve evolved as a person. Or perhaps I’ve just become soft. Either way, I’m still undecided.
