THE IDEA TANK
by Paul Gitschner

Wenzler always had problems with story ideas. He'd wanted to be a great horror writer but all that he'd accomplished was to waste a year and kill his fish through neglect. Those staring, evil fish.

He'd just set the cleaned tank back on the corner of his cluttered desk when the first great idea came. Emptiness had inspired him. He began to type. Fast. He was four pages along when another hit and couldn't ignore it or it would be lost. He scribbled key words on a scrap and threw it into the tank. The third materialized a few moments later. Another note. He struggled to finish that first story as even more arrived. Each seemed as if a piece of himself were being set free. Ideas for novels, plays and even an opera interrupted. He'd glance up excitedly at his fish tank filling with notes. He thought he was set. Then he fell asleep.

He awoke feeling cold glass on his chin. Opening his eyes wide, he pressed his hands on the clear wall and saw his empty chair, now the size of a billboard on the other side. He screamed.

© Paul Gitschner 2004

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