The Cursed Cursor

Blinking, taunting, and annoying, my cursor beckons me to write something, anything but nothing. And yet my thoughts shift like whirled champagne in a flute. I wait patiently for inspiration to float down to my fingertips.

Nevertheless, I am here staring, and the cursed cursor is taunting me. This conundrum isn’t writer’s block. I have too many ideas going in different directions. Nouns, adjectives, pronouns, and compound predicates whirling by without a chance of being caught. And why does that stupid thing keep blinking at me?

Time is pressing, and my deadline approaches. I need to write something, but words have betrayed me. Alone I set with my keyboard and desk lamp. Soon the hour will strike, and a blank screen will be my only product from my vocabulary bloating. Yes, I’m sure the Dawn will find me staring contently at my cursed cursor.