I just tried to write a story

i dont know why, suddenly i was writing and publishing my first chapter. It's gone now. It was too short.

here it is

I fled a falling dream today,
It never saw the light.
I fled a falling dream and knew that I was never right.

It drove me to the shadows,
It chased me through the streets.
But when it tracked me down I knew it moved upon my feet.

I never tried to stop it,
Instead I drove my fist.
But in the end the only impact was the nightly mist.

As it tangled in my fur,
It crashed upon my fears.
And now I know that dreams will go
But memory,
Memory is forever.

The page quickly reminded me that none of it was real. My confusion, my mission, all of it is self-imposed. A desire to understand... "HA!" no wonder all my self-respect walked out. No wonder I abandoned my life, to wonder this landscape. Forever is a long time once you realize you can never have it.

It's a shame this room is so blank, all that's here is a desk and paper. How did I get here again? It seems like these are the questions I can never forget. All this untapped potential Turned to dust.

“The emptiness is forever.”

The words flowed over my shoulder again. I didn’t look back. I knew no one was there, what would make this time any different from the others. Instead I looked within once more and saw what I had written.

“In Mists”

Yes, that was the name of it. Why I could not say- but there it was, imposed upon my mind just as all the others had been.

It was a short poem, more rhythmic than normal for me. It is almost a cliché to me simply by how harmonious it sounds. Very little dissonance, very subtle meaning; It will do for now.

I looked again, the land scape was one shade darker than white.

“Strange” I said, “it did it again.”

JetN sat up in bed, instantly awake. His body shaking, his skin burning, no screams left his lips, after all he was used to things ending this way. a million miles from a solution, something had woken him once more. JetN glanced quickly to his desk, he never used it, yet it was covered with papers. Most of them were blank but a few had writing on them. He dug through to the bottom most pieces and stared. it had happened again. Somehow it was there, title and everything. With hoof writhing that was not his own-

IN MISTS

I fled a falling dream today,
It never saw the light.
I fled a falling dream and knew that I was never right.

It drove me to the shadows,
It chased me through the streets.
But when it tracked me down I knew it moved upon my feet.

I never tried to stop it,
Instead I drove my fist.
But in the end the only impact was the nightly mist.

As it tangled in my fur,
It crashed upon my fears.
And now I know that dreams will go
But memory,
Memory is forever.

Like always the last lines stuck out, he did not remember this at all.