[ WP ] Trying and failing to finish your third novel , you rent a house in an extremely remote location in order to avoid distraction . Every night , however , you hear the sound of a distant bell ringing , louder and closer with each passing evening .

Ok, right, ok, so then... fuck. What if the Mark comes to Stephanie and confronts her about the drugs? That might work. Wait, no, how would Mark know that she was involved. Dammit. Dammit shit crap. 
 
 I shut my laptop slightly harder than I should have and instantly pulled it back open to make sure nothing was damaged. No, just me then, good. My first was nothing but passion, sleepless nights in the screen glow, drafts and drafts and drafts. My second was smooth, the words coming effortlessly after the hard lessons of the previous. This one is just a bitch. Two weeks I've been here in this dead mans house and barely anything done. I was worried the cliche of actually isolating myself like this might affect how my writing sounds, but luckily for me I have n't been able to write shit. It's just been me and the trees and... *that bell! * There it was again! I knew I was n't hearing things. The first night I thought it was a faucet dripping or something, it was so faint. It's gotten louder and louder each time I hear it, each evening. Now it sounds close. Close enough that if I flung open the door to the house and shone my LED flashlight directly ahead of me I could see whatever is causing it. But I wo n't. I'm going to get some sleep. 
 
 It looks like a cloud is trying to suffocate the house. My agent told me there would be fog, but this is just comical. If I press my nose against the window I ca n't see more than a foot or two outside. When I woke I thought there might be a massive fire nearby or something. But there was no smoke smell, no primal fear in my chest. Just cold and damp. And there's the bell again, and here I am sat in the same place I was yesterday with just as little progress made. That bell. It's absolutely closer this time, I'm not making this up. You know that feeling you get where in your mind, like your deep mind, you know something is n't right, but you ignore it because you want to remain comfortable? I think I may have just moved past that whole phase. 
 
 The fog was persistent, I'll give it that. I've never seen fog hang around like this for three days, but here I am having my postdinner smoke on the porch and my hand before my face looks like someone has cranked the contrast right down. I flicked the butt away and flicked my wrist up and the glow told me it was almost 7. The bell would ring soon. Fuck it, what is there to be scared of? For all I know it's just a frog that swallowed a bike bell or something. Only as I stepped onto the soaked through grass did I realise I was wearing just socks. Well, that sucks. The fog became the world, but I casually and calmly strode out, hands in my pockets. It's gon na be soon, and then I can figure out what it is, and maybe then I can get some work done. And there it was, a loud, clear ring. Behind me. Between the house and I. I became the air, frozen. Bad news, the bell told me. I turned on a dime and sprinted harder than I knew I could. The stairs came up before me and with a solid thud my shin connected with the hard wood and I sprawled onto the porch. Sucking air through my gritted teeth and lurched to my feet and threw the door open and slammed it shut behind me. The fire had died down to embers and the fog seemed to be seeping through the windows. My laptop lay destroyed on the floor. I did n't realise I'd taken the handgun from the drawer, but before I knew it I was sitting the corner with the cold metal in my hand and the barrel pressed against my skull. What the fuck? I lowered it and watched the room. It was quiet and my eyes grew heavy. 
 
 The morning sun shone through the windows like the fingers of God. My laptop still lay on the floor. I left the gun beside it, threw my clothes into my bag, turned off the gas like they'd told me to, grabbed my car keys and was out the door. The drive home was paradise, the cool, clear morning air and the sound of birds and the stream. Thank fucking God I do n't have to keep writing that novel.
