Snap! Like a mouse trap, like a rubber band and it was gone. Completely gone. Nothing, but the clean sheet of paper and pen poised to write, left to say ut had ever even been there. Good ideas rarely stayed for long, and if one didn't put pen to paper within that short time, they were lost forever.

That happened a lot. She put the pen back down, letting her head drop the last few inches to rest on the paper. Spaces to write, whole black areas of space to write about the coloured images that flickered every once in a while.

She straightened, picking up the pen once again, looking towards the familiar black for inspiration. Gaining nothing but echoing silences, she looked towards the paper. It gleamed, space showing once again that it was supreme. Space invaded her thoughts, driving away the last few remaining coloured flickers.

Space... it was unchallenged as leader now. Nothing had the strength, the skill, to overcome it, not any more. She glanced at the pen in her hand; it was designed to write, the slender design fitting into her hand, leaving only a little space on either side.

There was nothing, yet there was everything in this black, this gaping void that both filled and surrounded her. Even the candle had long since been vanquished, clearing out the shadows to make room for... space. It all came back down to space. Space to write, space to move, space to think... so much space everywhere.

The paper gleamed white under the harsh darkness; stark and blank, it showed how little had been done. How little was little? Was there enough space to fill it?

She pressed the tip of the pen to the top of the first sheet of paper, watched as the ink began to flow, taking shape. It spelt one word, lines twisted curiously to create letters. Zendescha. Her name. So long, yet so short by way of space. The page was still so empty, but it was marred, no longer cutting such a stark reminder in the dark of work to be done.

She let the pen keep moving, letting the lines and dots pour onto the page. Space was so small, if it could only manage to heed her existence, her ability, for such a short time. Space didn't leave, though, it hung around to do it again, to go from scratch, to halt the pen mid-stroke.

The first sheet of paper filled quickly, the colours stemming from the single flash of light amidst the darkness. The second followed at the same pace, but the third slowed. It wasn't like the light to flicker at such a crucial point, to let the colours fade. Perhaps this was the real weapon of space - to let the light through in smaller parts, to show that not everything can be done at once.

The light didn't vanish completely, it stayed, fighting, and the colours moved tentatively through the marred battlefield where light, and dark, and space, tried for the throne of the last unconquered place - the mind.

When light finally weakened, and dark and space allied, the colours had all been taken to the white paper, where they were safe.

She held the pen over the last of the sheets of paper, poised to write; the last word had to leave a remembrance, an imprint, so the dark could never pull it under. Zendescha. Her name was strong, it was the strongest word she knew. She began to finish, slowing the pen for the end of the piece. When the words were down, and the end complete, she let the darkness read.

Nowhere had she said she was scared of space, and the darkness could find nothing weak enough to take. Only space stood strong enough to see the papers through until the end - and Zendescha was proud.

Space QCS Writing Task Practise 1 2002 Stimulus Paper

Space Jill Moore

May 27, 2003