It was another quiet day. Once again, I was preparing to write something. I loved writing; writing was something where I could toss aside the banal and annoying prospects that made life less than preferable. It was difficult sometimes, but I always felt a smile appear on my face when I was writing. But that day, it was not any ordinary day. That day, a visitor appeared before my eager writing eyes.

I sat in the room typing away on the computer. Small characters frequently appeared on the screen; the white canvas became cluttered with my imaginative creations. I remember typing a period, ending a sentence calmly. However, as the sentence completed, I felt a chilling pierce at my spine. I normally would've simply suspected a cold chill, but this one resonated with such chilling echo, I could not simply ignore it. My eye twitched as sweat ran down my face. I slowly rose from my seat to examine whatever had entered my room, even though I wasn't sure anything had happened. But my instinct was on edge; something was wrecking the serenity that my writing produced. I peered over the desk and could not believe my itching eyes. A box, no bigger than a baseball stood on two legs in the doorway. I rubbed my eyes to distort whatever hallucination ran through my psyche, but I could not erase this image. The block was a bright red hue and had a smiling face centered on its side.

"Hi." It said, in a high, annoying voice. Its smile was haunting; it was so sweet, but I could feel a horrific chill with its presence.

"Okay…who are you?" I said, nervously.

"My name is Toko, and I was sent here." It said.

"Sent here for what?" I asked.

"Um, I'm a writer's block. I was sent by the Writer's Block Society to be a writer's block." It said, still smiling. At that moment, I practically assured my insanity. But despite my disbelief, I grew a disturbing fear with it. I attempted to reassure how impossible the situation was, but each time I did, my mind was haunted by the red block's horrific smiling face. I turned my head to the block with a panic upon my face.

"You're a Writer's Block?" I asked.

"Yup." It said, climbing a stack of books to the top of the desk. It had to be a hallucination; perhaps I was working too hard. I took a deep breath and placed my shaky fingers back upon the keyboard. Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away. I focused my eyes back to my poetry as sweat poured across my brow. My vision quickly became intruded by a horrific shade of red. "Hey, dude, what're you writing there?" it said, in its sickeningly sweet voice.

"I'm trying to write some poetry." I said, speaking to whatever it was.

"Oh, poetry, yeah. I once read some poetry. It was all "blah blah blah" and "blah blah blah". Man, it was boring." I felt my face cringe at its constant rambling. "Man, if I wrote a poem, it would be all "blocks rule" or "writer's blocks like apple pie," or something like that."

"Look, you little…um…whatever, I'm trying to write this." I angrily said.

"Whoa, whoa, sorry, man." It said, "I'll be quiet." I took a deep breath and continued to type my words. As I reached the third line, an annoying hum began to sound. I looked down to the unwanted visitor and saw it rocking back and forth with the annoying hum escaping its mouth. I glared at it, and found the strength to talk.

"Hey, Taco,"

"It's Toko, mister."

"Whatever." I said, clenching my teeth, "Could you leave, please? I'm trying to work."

"What? I'm not doing anything." It said.

"You're being a bothersome little twerp and a constant distraction. Please leave." I said, directing it to the exit. The little thing looked down.

"Sorry, man," it said, "I'll leave." It hopped down from the desk and walked to the doorway. Before it left, I saw it turn around and face me. "Hey, mister," it said.

"What?" I replied. Its happy expression then shifted into a wide-toothed grin and beady eyes. As if the sweet face wasn't horrifying enough, this expression was scary and intimidating.

"Don't get too secure." It said, with a sinister smile, "I'll be back real soon."