Begining of a book

Oh how the keyboard loomed on his desk, staring at him, an evil grin. He glared at it, hoping that it would stop looking at him like that. The monitor wasn’t helping his cause, it looked at him blankly expecting something to be wonderful placed on its face. He turned his head away.

He walked to his refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of gin, he chugged it. It burned his throat, but the burning distracted him from the computer sitting plainly on his desk, waiting for him to be done. He expected the mouse to start drumming, like when he couldn’t answer a question in math; the teacher would drum her fingers. Those long spider-like appendages that haunted his dreams.

“That woman…that evil woman…I expected her to…to steal my mind in my sleep….” He muttered out loud to himself.

Wait… he put down the bottle beside the monitor on his desk.  He had a stare down with the large white screen of his word processor. His fingers tiptoed on the letters of the keyboard. It made a satisfying click-noise, but no words or letters appeared on the screen.

He looked down at his fingers, silently arguing with them.

‘No, you will type this.’ He said loudly in his head.

Slowly his finger pressed down on the “T” button, and then on the “H”.

‘E CHILDREN WOULD NEVER KNOW, THE MONSTER THEIR MATH TEACHER WAS.’
He smiled at the first line on the screen. Sighing, he was relieved that it was becoming easier. As his confidence grew so did the speed of his fingers dancing on the keyboard.


The first line is always the hardest.