The brain fog rises!
Once again, our poor [Writer] is trapped in the eternal seas of clouds, in their temporary home, surrounded by the dark waters of uncertainty. One day, there shall be sunlight of clear intellect and clarity and focus again, and they shall rise to the promised land of their new house. For now, they languish in the darkness.
With the creeping deadlines and unfinished chapters writhing up the slopes out of the fog, held back only at bay by frying pans, coffee mugs hurled from the windows of contempt, and the occasional broom. Because you should clean up.
In the dark abyss, pirateaba sits in their deepening madness and a thought reaches them as they build another chapter out of scraps of ideas and dusts, like dust upon the floor.
Once again, it is time for the poll...the blood moon is rising. The hour is coming. Which shall it be?
Erin? Erin would sweep every other foe to the abyss in a heartbeat. A hodgepodge of characters? Seborn? Each arc is a good one but they might be so...long. The Lyonette chapter is not yet finished and though it was glorious--!
No, no. Something new this time. Something different. Perhaps it's the brain fog talking. Or a worm that they picked up in Iceland. Does Iceland have worms? A mind-controlling puffin, then. pirateaba thinks, and then says it:
"This time, I'm sure I could write a bunch of short chapters."
Silence. Then they start laughing hysterically. The fog is laughing. The house is laughing.
pirateaba begins writing the poll. The choice is made. The die is cast.
'Short chapters'. Whatever wins this poll will have...
Short. Chapters written about it. Which sounds like less until you remember it's me. A chapter a day? Can I even do it like I did years ago? Or will it become 80,000+ daily words of madness?
Oh, the consequences. The hubris. But is it madness if you stare into the abyss before you drop? Vote carefully this time. All roads lead off the cliff, but you can at least pick which pit you're trying to fall into.