{"sf1_id":930209,"sf2_id":null,"title":"A Cure for Writer's Block","author":"The Tailless Bobcat","words":2688,"posted_at":"2015-11-04T13:12:00.000Z","tags":["Bobcat","Clean","Dragon","Drama","Friendship","Fursona","No-Yiff","Writer's Block","father","manx","town"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/930209-a-cure-for-writer-s-block","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/930209","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=930209\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"I wrote part of this while stricken with writer's block (hence the title), so I apologize if this story doesn't seem like my best. Part 2 of the Reanimation is coming, I promise!\nAlso, this story is the first with my fursona, and it is a representation of where I was for the past couple of weeks in terms of creating things.","content":"\n\"I\ncan't do this!\" My retort against my\nusually creative instinct sounds into the hallways from the bedroom,\naccompanied by the sound of a laptop slamming shut. Then, after several minutes\nof silence, I stumble out into the hallway: a grey Manx bobcat with black\nstripes on a mission. I brace against the right-side wall with a paw, the\nmuscles in my legs not being strong enough to carry me on my own. Usually,\npeople would think of that as a detriment. Not me; I'm just... used to it,\nthat's all.\n            I\nlook around now. The sunlight emanating from the living room ahead of me gives\ncontrast to the relative darkness of the doorway and the wheelchair that waits\nin front of it, as if it is trying to warn me of the possible dangers of the\nworld outside.\n            Not\nthat I care. In fact, if I, say,\nbruise my knee up out there, I'd just laugh the pain off. That's just the kind\nof person I am.\nAnyways, just as I drop to my knees, my father\ncalls from the living room: \"Twitchy, where're you going?\"\n            \"Just\noutside,\" I say, as I scoot towards my chair, both arms pulling my body forth,\nmy legs tucked underneath. For all of my life, that has been my main mode of\nmobility throughout the house: push forth, stop, and push again. It's a steady rhythm\nI have mastered, much to the chagrin of my tightened legs. As I reach my chair\nand pull myself upright (with both paws on the armrests), dad calls me again.\n            \"What\nare you gonna' do?\"\n            \"I'm\njust gonna'... go for a walk,\" I answer, turning myself around to sit on the seat\nof my wheelchair. \"It's just to clear my head.\" I spot my denim vest on the\ncoat rack nearby, the Metallicatz album cover (lightning chair and all) clearly\nvisible amid the sky blue of the garment's sides. The coppery tang of its buttons\nmakes me smirk in memory of all the concerts I've gone to over the years.  \n            \"Okay,\"\nI hear my father say, \"Don't be gone for too long, alright?\"\n            \"I\nwon't,\" I reply.  With a swiftness\nof paw, I lean forward and snatch the vest, sliding it on over my evergreen\nsweater. I leave it unbuttoned, since I figure that I look cooler like that\nanyways. Deftly, I spin around and unlock the door, both feet firmly planted on\nthe footrests.\n            \"See\nyou later.\"\n            \"You\ntoo, son.\"\n            I\nwheel outside, shutting the door behind me with my right arm. Wait, I think then, what about my music player? \n            I\nquickly check my breast pockets until I feel a familiar rectangular bump inside\nmy right one. Smiling, I unbutton the pocket and fish out the player and wired headphones,\nthe latter being tangled like a cluster of vines. \"Ah,\" I say to myself,\nuntangling the puzzle of wires, \"time to zone out.\"\n            After\nplugging my ears in, I check the device's battery life. 76%, it shows beside the battery symbol on the top right. Good\nenough to last a while. Satisfied, I set it on shuffle, wheeling down the stone\nramp into the open as thundering drums drown out my hearing...\n            What\nI had told my father earlier was essentially a half-lie. Sure, clearing my head\nwas at least a part of why I was\nheading outside, but it actually had more to do with finding an idea for a\nstory. You know the feeling when you sit down to create a narrative, but your\nideas run amok as soon as you've placed pen to paper (or, in my case, fingers\nto keys)? Well, that's the feeling I'm having right now. Fortunately (as I push\nforth on sidewalks, wind buffeting my whiskers), I have a plan to quash that\nempty feeling, and it all starts with a short walk past the Wood of Legends.\nThe Wood of Legends (existing beyond the borders of my hometown) is so called\nby locals because of the rare and splendid beasts that live there. Most people\nassume that the beasts are pure poppycock, existing only in the minds of cubs,\nkits and other young civilized folk. Well, I am here to tell you--as a visitor\nto the Wood--that such things are not true, as the fauna are as real in fur,\nflesh and scale. One of my dearest friends, in fact, is such a creature: a gold\nWestern dragon by the name of Aurelaxis. \n            The\nlast time I saw him, I was barely out of puberty, and that had been for just a\nshort little visit in the summer. This time, I need him more than ever. As I\nstop at the point where the suburbs give way to thick, thick forest, I imagine\nhis great lustrous form from all those years ago, wise and careful words\ndelivered in his soul penetrating voice. For\nwhat could inspire imaginative thoughts more than a dragon?\n            My wheels crunch and tread over leaves and dirt\nas I enter the Wood between two giant maples, both ribald in shape but bursting\nat branch-ends with color. In fact, this whole forest has the sky dominated with reds and oranges in autumn. A\npath shaped like an 'S' winds through this area, and if my memory is correct, this\ntime of year is when the indigenous unicorn tribes begin to prepare for the big\nmigration southward. Many of the tribes of this area know me pretty well,\nespecially the Dadaelians, whose leader (a friendly chestnut giant by the name\nof Kothar) has taken me up as a trusted friend and ally. Unfortunately, none of\nthem appear to be in the forest today, so I trudge on, brushing away my dark\nbangs whenever I stop to rest my muscles. After several minutes of stopping to\nprobe for nearby sounds, I emerge into a clearing, having seen nor heard any\ntraces of beasts thus far.\n            However,\nI know for a fact that the wait is over, because about thirty feet distant from\nme exists a towering cavern, jutting out of the verdant grasses like a towering\nteethed monument, its top not too dissimilar to a sharp-peaked mountain (or, if\nyou're a metal-head like me, the cover for Death's The Sound of Perseverance album). This, I remind myself now, is\nwhere Aurelaxis resides. Pushing myself forth, I take note of how difficult\nit is to move forward: each push feels like treading on a carpet--albeit chilled\nand natural--making it harder and harder for me to reach the grotto. After about\nwhat seems like fifteen more minutes, I give up, my paws slick with dampness\nand cold. I unbuckle myself and leap down. I am careful not to land on my tiny\nlittle stub of a tail.\n            My\ndash to the cave takes longer, but each time I look up to catch my breath, I\nsee it ever closer--a sign of my resilience. Once my path takes me over the\nfamiliar stone stalagmites, I freeze, my heart racing with feverish\nanticipation towards conversing with Aurelaxis. It is that first jolt of\nexcitement that always gets me: the chance to talk to a magnificent creature\nfull of wisdom and majesty. After that, I usually fall into the loop of the\nconversation, treating him just as if he were a civilized species; in other\nwords, plain good old respect.\n            I\nhear a clinking and the soft, slow padding of talons against stone, accompanied\nby the sight of lustrous blue eyes, their oval slits haunting in the darkness.\nThen, an arrow of fire alights a beam-sized scone on one of the lair's smoothly\ncarved walls, revealing the dragon once and for all. He is just as I remember\nhim: middle-sized for his kind (about the weight of three elephants) and\ngorgeous, his scales gleaming like the gold he sometimes hoards. As I take in\nmore of his utterly magnificent form, I notice that he's holding a great mug of\ncoffee in his left claw, finely crafted out of china. Wisps of heat-smoke\nstream from the mug, and the strong aroma of fresh cocoa is everywhere. \n            \"Thaddeus,\nmy friend,\" the dragon starts with a smile, \"how good is it to see you once\nagain!\" The hugeness of his voice makes my ears twitch back a little, but I\nremain calm, returning the grin on my shorter, more rounded muzzle.\n            \"You\ntoo. How have things been?\"\n            He\nsettles down with a heavy sigh, drawing his long spiked tail closer to his\nhindquarters. \n\"Over the past twelve years? Up and down.\" He\nsips, and then drums his free claw against stone. \"My mate--you know,\nDilanna--she passed away last fall.\"\nMy eyes widen in shock. \"Really?\" I scoot\ntowards the dragon's prodigious arm, touching the warm scales of its crook in\ncompassion. \"Very sorry to hear that.\"\nAurelaxis looks down at me for a second, his\nblue eyes glimmering with hints of firelight, before taking another sip of his\ncoffee. \"It was a very peaceful passing, though.\" Setting down his mug, he eyes\nme, left ear flicking expectantly. \"Do you know what the term respiratory pneumonia means?\"\n\"Yes,\" I say, nodding, \"She died from that?\"\nAurelaxis returns my gesture. \n\"Oh,\" I then say in response. My eyes lock on\nto a tiny crack in the cavern floor, studying it. Maybe it's time to tell him why\nI am here.\n\"Aurelaxis,\" I begin, not taking my eyes off of\nthe fissure, \"there's a reason why I stopped by...\"\n\"Mr-hm. What is it?\"\nI stop my studying to gaze back up at the\ndragon, a sigh escaping my lips. \"Well, I'm having a lotta' trouble with ideas\nfor my story.\" My heart pounds as I say this, making my fur prickle in\ntimidity.\nThe dragon gets up, a sudden lurch that\nstartles me greatly. \"Yes? And?\"\nI watch him as he whirls around, padding away\ninto another more crudely carved chamber with the mug in his fore-claws. \"I was\nwondering if you could, y'know, inspire\nme. Give me some... ideas.\" \nI hear the gentle clink of china against\ngranite from the chamber behind me. After a second, Aurelaxis reappears, his\ngreat winged form rejoining mine. Having heard my call, he answers, \"How could\nI do that, Thaddeus?\"\nMy mouth opens, hesitates for a split second.\n\"I-I don't know. Magic. Um,\"--I gulp\ndown, remembering that dragons never do such things--\"telling a story, maybe?\"\nOut of all the things Aurelaxis could do, a simple tale telling was what\nI remembered him doing best. He had an old storyteller's voice, the kind usually\naccompanied by a fire and a nice cup of boiling hot tea. However, the dragon\nisn't up for it at the moment, as he tells me that he is tired of repeating\ntales that have already been told. \n\"C'mon,\" I plead, lacing fingers together as\nkits do to their mothers, \"just do it. You know\nyou're good at it! Just one story for me, please.\" \nThe dragon, having just plopped down beside me,\nconsiders, rubbing his chin with the thumb of his talon. \"Alright,\" he says,\nstanding up once more, \"it shall be done.\" He cranes his neck around to spy me.\n\"Which one do you want to hear?\"\nI blink, not thinking for a moment. \"Oh! Ummm...\"\nI rub my muzzle in contemplation, fingering my whiskers softly. There are so\nmany tales to take inspiration from, all great in their morals and adventures.\nMy personal favorites are (naturally) the ones with dragons as the\nprotagonists. As it happens, my mind focuses on the image of a familiar red\nwyrm, his claws sharp and striking, descending upon a wooden ship, bearing a\nvulpine rider on his back. \n\"Tell me of Thanos the Scarlet,\" I say,\nsnapping out of my reverie, \"and his pact with the foxes of Thumbria to\noverthrow their Daelan overlords.\" A smile breaks on my lips as I remember\nflashes from the tale's plot: Thanos' speech to the citizens, his ambush, the\nGreat Battle that occurred thereafter. The dragon grins as well.\n\"You have always loved that tale, have you not?\"\n\"Yep.\" \n\"Alright, then.\" He takes a few steps forward,\nunfurling his wings, which veil the sun, itself smothered by the clouds hanging\nover the clearing and the surrounding Wood. The last thing he tells me before\nhe takes flight is a confirmation that yes, he is indeed going hunting, and yes, he will\ntell the tale when he returns. I nod at the news, smiling, and watch him glide\nfar, far above the treetops, wishing that I could be a dragon myself.\n\"Ahem,\"\nthe dragon starts later on, having brought me dinner: a freshly killed rat,\nalong with an ox for himself. He stops, eyeing me sinking my canines into the\ngrey furred carcass. \"Are you enjoying that?\"\nI rip off a piece, chewing and nodding. \"Yesh,\"\nI say, spitting inattentively, \"go on.\"\nAurelaxis clears his throat again, and promptly\nstarts his tale. \"Long, long ago, there was a drake named Thanos. His scales\nwere the color of blood and war, and his eyes shone like the stars and the\nland's twin suns. Despite his scales, he was a peaceful sort of fellow...\"\nBefore I know it, my eyes are closed, the fur\nand whiskers of my cheek planted into the stone floor. But another story rises\nin my dreams: one of a similar-hued drake rising out of a pool in his lair,\nscales dripping as he ventures out, catching sight of a raccoon standing far\nbelow, looking a lot like my friend Dashaen, red hoodie and all--\n\"Thaddeus!\"\nI am shaken awake, my head throbbing from the sheer cacophony of Aurelaxis'\ncall. I look up; he is staring down at me, his brows furrowed, his lips\nslightly parted in annoyance. \"Why did you doze off, my friend? Do you not want\nto hear the tale, or what?\"\nI exhale a breath, half-realizing my heart's\nviolent thudding. \"I did,\" I say\nafter a moment of silent hesitation, \"but I only wanted to draw inspiration\nfrom it.\" \nThe dragon scanned me, as if I were suddenly a\nthing to be eaten, then sighed. \"So has it been renewed?\"       \nI get up to my knees, a grin forming across my\nmuzzle. \"Yup.\" I rub my eyes, yawned before looking at the outside world: the\nsky was darkening, I realized, into a navy blue. \"I should really get going,\" I\nsay, partly to myself, \"before my dad scolds me for being out too long.\" \n\"Truthfully, I don't think that will happen,\"\nAurelaxis replies, \"and here's why.\" His sigh catches my attention, holding it\nthere as he explains. \"Your father... he is an intelligent feline being. He knows you are more mature now than when\nI last saw you. So I say this,\" he\noffers with a claw outstretched: \"Tell him where you have been. It never hurts\nto do so.\" The dragon nods, emphasizing his point. \n\"Really?\" \n\"Of course.\"\nI turn and bid adieu to my good friend,\nAurelaxis the Golden, before making the long crawl back to my wheelchair. My\nfur suffers a few cuts and scrapes along the way, but in the end I make it. My\npaws caked with grime, I unlock my brakes and head back, keeping the dragon's\nsuggestion in my head all the while.\nWhen I make it home, it is half past midnight.\nThe house is silent and dark, but the door to my room is still open. So I push\nvaliantly onwards, wheeling myself into the chambers of my own personal domain.\nThe laptop is there, closed. I venture up to the desk and open it. Light floods\nfrom the device; apparently I had left it on. I sight, purring slightly, and\nstart typing, full of fresh ideas. I type about the rising dragon, the familiar\nraccoon, all of it.  \nAs for my father wondering about me, I reminded\nmyself to inform him tomorrow morning, with renewed confidence.                         \n                 \n           \n"}