(Not to be confused with my other story entitled "Writer's Block")
I looked ahead of me. There is was, a big block of wood. As I stared at it, my mind went oddly blank, like this block was standing in the way of my thoughts.
"Do you know what this is?" asked a person standing beside me whom I had not noticed before.
I was unable to respond to this question, so ze continued. "This is a Writer's Block. It was put here by ancient civilizations to encourage 'hard work'. It is something that must be overcome."
I stood there, unable to speak or think clearly.
"Many a person has fallen victim to the Block. It stifles the imagination and eats up one's problem-solving abilities. The worst victims end up as slaves, since they are unable to know any better."
No, I do not want that. I don't. I don't. I don't.
"You're free to wander. To find a better place. I was forced to live here as a child, so the damage is already done to me. You have time. Go."
I went, and never saw the block again.