It's either too dark or not deep enough. I don't know how they expect me to scratch the surface without drawing blood.

"Everything is all set up for you, alright? The rent has been paid in full, and management thinks that this is exactly what you need. As a matter of fact—are you listening?"

"Uh huh…"

"No, you aren't."

"…Right."

The rain beat down on the cab with such ferocity that I could only imagine it was some sort of omen, warning me to run while I still had the chance. The deeper we got into the town, the more isolated it seemed. Perhaps it was the weather, but we hadn't encountered a single soul, hadn't seen a single person on the sidewalk. It was unnerving.

"Well, come on!"

My assistant pulled me out of the car and sprinted towards my new house. "Oh my god," I breathed, stalling even as she yanked on my arm. It was beautiful. Leading up from the driveway, the walkway was an artistic arrangement of stepping stones, which ended at the steps of a wraparound porch. From what I could see, the backyard sloped down, flattening out into a blanket of green grass. Beyond that, I could just barely make out a dock jutting out into the lake.

Megan finally uprooted me, and our soaked shoes thudded on the porch steps. My dark, wavy curls were matted down by the deluge. Muttering, she unlocked the front door, before ushering me inside. "My God," I said again, taking in the home. It was bigger than my apartment back in the city. The hardwood floor creaked under my boots as I peered around the foyer.

Examining her IPhone, Megan took a moment to make sure it hadn't been damaged, before turning her attention back to me. "Now, Alice, I know this place isn't much, but Mr. Davis—"

"What are you talking about?" My eyes drifted along the soft yellow walls, which had been decorated with an assortment of paintings. "A lake house? In New England? This must have cost a fortune."

"Well, Mr. Davis thought it would be best to keep you on the edge of town, so you wouldn't be bothered by the residents of the town. We figured if you got out of the city, you may get inspired."

The two of us walked through the living room, which was simple and sophisticated in its sparse but warm decorating, and Megan led me upstairs, which consisted of one bedroom, a bathroom, and an office. My editor, Jonathan Davis, had outdone himself.

No nonsense as usual, Megan informed me, "Now, the actual town of Bellington is just a mile up the road. You've got a few neighbors also living on the lake, but they're about half a mile away, and really shouldn't be any sort of problem. Besides, you've got woods separating you from them and the townspeople, so this should be conducive to concentration."

"Jonny really wants me to get to work, huh?" I teased, running my fingers along my new desk.

The office consisted of a "writing station", where my laptop had been set up, a large, comfy chair, and nothing else. I supposed this was in an effort to minimize distractions. Across from the desk was a glass door, which led out to a small balcony. I couldn't wait for the storm to pass so I could pass the last of the August days outdoors.

Placing her hands on her hips, she told me pointedly, "Mr. Davis doesn't usually pour so much money into the inspiration of a writer, but he has high hopes for you. Once you get settled in, I think the environment will have you up and running. What do you think?"

"Wow."

"I'm glad to see you're enthusiastic, but let's translate Alice Evans's imagination into S.D. Collins's next bestseller, okay?" She tried in vain to scrap her red curls back into the carefully constructed bun she usually wore, but between the humidity and the rain, there was no hope. I had to suppress a smile. Megan McPherson was supposed to be my assistant, but she usually spent most of her day telling me what to do.

"All my things are already here, right?"

"Yes, they were flown in before you were, and Mr. Davis made sure that the movers even unpacked for you." Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her trench coat, she glanced around the office, and I was almost sure I saw a flash of envy in her features. "Alright, everything you could want is here, Mr. Davis left you about a week's worth of food in the fridge and cabinets, and he left you the keys on the counter along with a credit card to cover any expenses. You owe D&L Publishing a manuscript a year from tomorrow, and a finished copy six months from then. Any questions?"

I shook my head. "Um, nope, that all seems crystal clear to me."

"Great. I have a plane to LA to catch, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait a minute, what? You're not staying?"

Megan gave me an impatient smile. Apparently, I hadn't been listening close enough. "Mr. Davis thinks that my following you around and attending to you all the time would draw attention in this little town. So, yes, I'm leaving. I'm just a phone call away if you need moral support, but I know you won't. You're just in a little slump. You've cranked out two successful mystery novels, remember? Mr. Davis is in the process of getting one of them turned into a movie. So, obviously, you're talented. Just focus."

"Writer's block is a serious condition!" I told her.

"Right, and that's why we moved you. This place is supposed to be therapeutic." Pinching my cheek, she said, "You'll do great. Remember, you're under contract!"

"Thanks for the reminder, Megan."

"Call me whenever you need." Clapping me on the shoulder, she walked around me, her heels clicking down the steps as she called, "Good luck, Alice!"

The front door slammed shut, and suddenly I was acutely aware of how alone I was. On the other side of the country, on the outskirts of a little town, I realized that my editor had tossed me right into the setting of a horror movie. I shook off the thought. It wouldn't do me any good to freak myself out on the first night in.

Making my way downstairs, I stepped onto the white tile of the kitchen. The cabinets were made of dark cherry wood and the counter tops were granite. Even to rent such a space must have been expensive, and I wondered if it would be to my benefit to get writer's block more often. My eye was caught by a bottle of wine on the island counter top, which had a silver bow wrapped around the neck. The keys to the home were exactly where Megan said they would be, along with a credit card that had been stamped with D&L Publishing Co. Beside it, there was an envelope with my name on it, and when I opened it up, I found a note from Jonathan:

Make me proud, Alice. You always do.

Short, sweet, and to the point. My publishers were dying for me to pump out the next bestseller, but I didn't know if I had it in me. All of a sudden, I had nothing. There was no story inside me, no words within in my grasp. Honestly, I was burned out.

In an attempt to force me to focus, they had booked me a flight the day after my sister's birthday—a painful event at best. Five years my senior, my sister's thirtieth birthday had been a zoo, as she struggled to maintain a household with four children. Mary couldn't have been any less like me. She was married at nineteen, a housewife, and a real PTA, community, soccer mom. I had been a starving artist, college dropout kind of kid until Jonathan got a hold of my first manuscript, The Waterfront. In short, he had adored it, and apparently the public did too.

With two novels under my belt, I was credible, and readers wanted more. I was at a loss.

Rummaging through the cabinets, I found a wine glass and broke the seal of my gift. I filled the cup, raising it in a toast. "To another night alone, uninspired, and unsure."

I turned to head back upstairs and spend my first night in my new bedroom. Pausing, I glanced behind me. "What the hell," I shrugged, grabbing the bottle and taking it with me.

A/N: Well, I know this piece is incredibly short, but I really wanted to get the first chapter up in order to motivate myself to keep writing! Reviews and kind words are always appreciated! My goal is to have a new chapter up every Sunday, so we'll see how that goes!

x

BecauseYouLoveMe