Prompt for May 11, 2016

Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:

The crying was soft, not much louder than the purring of Archibald, the siamese cat that curled up on the recliner in the corner of the living room. But Claire heard it. She tilted her head in various directions, trying to determine where it was coming from and stopped with a jerk when she realized what it was. Quietly, but quickly, she went down the hallway to the office and looked in on her husband Arthur.

Arthur sat at his desk, his head resting on the maple desk that Arthur had bought when he started his writing. “You need to have a real desk if you’re going to be a writer,” he had said and, so far, it had worked for him. But tonight was different, tonight he looked like he was in pain. She walked over quickly and laid a hand on his back, moving it in small circles in an effort to provide some comfort.

“Arthur, what’s wrong?”

The crying stopped as Arthur slowly raised his head to look at Claire. His eyes were rimmed in red and puffy with a trail of tears leaving their mark on his face. “I can’t do it, Claire, I can’t do it anymore.”

“What can’t you do?”

“These stories, these damn stories. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve written five hundred of these stories and every single one is still floating around in my head. Do you remember the intro to the story about the man’s wife cheating on him, where he sees her in the bar?” He continued without waiting for her response. “I have the whole story floating around in my head. I know what happens to them, all of them and it’s not particularly nice. The girl that comes home with fire dripping from her hands only to find someone in her house? Yeah, that story too. I know why she came home that way, who the stranger was in the house and everything leading up to that event and everything afterward. So much pain, so much pain. They’re all in my head, Clarie and I can’t get rid of them!”

He slammed his head forward, smashing it on the desk, again and again. Even as Claire tried to stop him and the blood flew and started to speckle his keyboard and monitor he kept hurting himself. “Get out of my head, damn you, get out of my head!”

Post a link to the story in the comments.

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