I went to a writing workshop last week where they had us each write a story in 15 minutes. This was mine, cleaned up a little.
My ambition is a monster under my bed, one I feed nilla wafers to and ruffle behind the ears while it makes goofy 'blubblubblubblubblub' sounds.
Sometimes, my ambition is sinister. Shapeless. And silent. A black nothingness that makes my hairs stand on end.
Sometimes, all the nilla wafers in the world aren't enough.
Driving home, my car's headlights catch a cat torture-playing with a mouse. I slam on the gas to give the mouse a chance to run. The cat stares through me, snatches the mouse in its teeth, and leaps into the dark.
I'm gutted. "I'm glad I've never been hunted."
But when I get home and walk into my bedroom, the silence is deafening. Goosebumps prickle up my neck. The lights flicker.
I shove a nilla wafer under my bed and jump back. The electricity cuts off and all goes dark. Seeing nothing, I tremble as I hear the wafer slowly
across the floor, followed by silence.
"Blublublubblublublubbbblubbb." My shoulders relax.
Tonight, my ambition is my friend.
But tomorrow, it'll likely want blood.