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[Disclaimer: This chapter is written by the author RedPandaChick]

**It's dark outside. My eyesight is bleary. My head is throbbing and I can hear the sound of rain pelting the metallic roof above my head. It's cold in my car. I try to move, but I can't feel my legs. My lower back flares with heat and intense pain. I gasp then moan as I grind my teeth together. Some of my ribs are broken. What happened? Where am I? I finally pry my eyes open enough to see the shattered windshield of my car.**

I roll over in bed, the early morning sun is seeping through my "blackout" curtains. I take a deeper breath and let it out slowly. 5:30am. And though my eyes protest the thought of getting up, my brain is now alert enough that even trying to rest will be impossible. But I continue to lay in bed as the scene from my dream rolls around in my mind like a broken record. It doesn't matter how much I try to push the scene further along, I know by now that the scene will not continue until I have taken the time to write it down.

Taking one more deep breath, I pull the blanket back and crawl to the bottom of my bed for my laptop. I push the power button to wake up the device. Then I prop my pillow up against the wall. The Webnovel Chat which had been overly active just moments ago has gone dead. I ignore it for now. I need to get this scene out of my head! …Rescued from the car just to black out. Wake post surgery and still unable to feel my legs. Two hour rotations and a hospital stay that will last 12 weeks until my back has healed sufficiently for rehab.

I look up at the clock to give my burning eyes a break. 8:30am. I should find something to eat. Setting my computer aside, I cross the room to the mini fridge in the corner by the closet. Pulling the door open, I crouch to find nothing but mayonnaise, minced garlic, hummus, guacamole, and prune juice. There are fruit snacks and fruit cups on a 10 gallon tote next to the fridge.

'I really should make some oatmeal,' I think to myself. 'I hate cooking.'

Grabbing two packages of fruit snacks I return to my bed and set my laptop on my legs once more. I start to eat the first package as I flip POV to my ML. A cop who is fretting because his dark web contact has yet to check in. But I don't know anything about the dark web! (DW for future) What am I thinking trying to write about something I don't understand or have any inclination of exploring so I can get my facts straight.

I slouch some as I stare at the blinking line at the end of my sentence. I ponder and wrack my brain about what my ML was going to do. His experience with the DW is about on par with my own—ZILCH!

Would he try to search the DW for answers? Did he dare try to surf with web without the buffer his contact created? I blow out my breath in frustration. 11:58am. About time for lunch, or at least something more substantial than fruit snacks. Setting my computer aside once more, I get off my bed and notice the pile of sheet I had from work.

I needed to get those washed too or I wouldn't have enough for my massage clients the next day. Grabbing four sets of sheets and my laundry detergent, I thump my way downstairs to the laundry room. A door on my right opens as I turn left to enter the laundry room.

"Morning, Sis," my younger bother Eranoth says.

"Morning, Boyo," I reply. "How go your stories?"

"Okay, I guess." He leaves his room and follows me into the laundry room. "I have yet to feel comfortable sharing my chapter two with my reading group."

"I understand. Anything sound good for lunch?"

"You mean breakfast."

"That too."

"Not really. I'm cool to go wherever you want to go."

I nod. "Let me get these started and then we'll go."

"Okay."

After a couple hours of driving across the valley in search of something that sounds edible, Eranoth and I return home with Cup Bop (Korean BBQ). We sit in my room and eat while I read my paragraphs to him.

"I would move your FL's recovery time to after your scene with you ML," he suggests. Keep the happenings for each on a similar timeline since your FL is your ML DW contact."

"Good point. Thank you."

"Sure. Can I tell you the title of my next chapter?"

"Sure!"

"Grilled Fish."

"Grilled Fish?" I ask, sitting up a little.

"Yep. My MC tries 43 times to make the perfect grilled fish," Eranoth chuckles. "His aunt is a picky eater."

I laugh. "Very!"

We laugh and chat over food for another half hour before he returns downstairs to read his favorite WN authors. I pick up my laptop just to set it down again. "Laundry."

I pick up the four sets of sheets off my floor then take them down to the laundry room. Soft music is coming from Eranoth's room. Sounds like one of the Pokemon Dungeon songs today. Upbeat, semi-techno. Good choice. I rotate my laundry then return to my laptop. I correct my FL/ML timelines so they match up. When do I reveal who/what my FL really is? I glace down at the clock and notice I have been spinning my wheels for the last twenty minutes.

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"Save," I sigh. "Now which other novel needs attention?"

I open Dropbox and scan through my list of unfinished novels. Many of them I haven't touched in over a year. No dreamland inspiration has come for them in a while and I find it difficult to continue the story when I am awake. Words and me don't always get along—ask my family and co-workers. But that doesn't keep me from writing. Doesn't keep me from attempting to describe the scenes and characters that run rampant in my dreams.

I open one unfinished novel just to close it again. I open a few folders that contain four or five versions of the same story. What is it that I am after? Have I written too much? Have I not written enough? I tip my head back and rest it against the wall. 'Arg! Not having Betas sucks.'

My computer chimes and I jerk at the sound. I had forgotten I had cranked up the volume so I could rock out to the Ascension to Cosmo Canyon Remix while getting my ten minute work out in yesterday. I click on discord to see that Eranoth had pinged me in my Red Panda Rescue server.

'Thought you would like this,' he wrote, followed by a link to Ean Grimm's YouTube video Blue Night Woods.

'Thanks!' I replied.

I open the link and let the soft Celtic music fill the background as I recalled the dream scene I had several days ago and had yet to write down. The scene flows from my fingers before I realize my set up won't work for where I want the story to go! Yes, it provides the readers with a better view of ML's feelings for FL, but... there is no natural segway from his passionate kiss to the darkness that is soon to surface in their work place.

Tapping the fingers of my right hand on the keyboard while my left hand pulled at my bottom lip, I run the story through my head again. I stop tapping and pulling when I get to the storm that seriously injures my ML.

"Make him believe FL is gone when he finally wakes," I say, shaking my finger at the screen. "It will make the other scene… Yes!"

Scrapping the kiss scene, I start again.

[A/N: When I haven't taken the time to edit my writing, I get to a point when I want to edit it all. So I spend all day working on story after story, eating very little and ignoring the world. Then when night comes, I make sure I have a full box of Cheese-Its—Original or Party Mix—and a couple bottles of water so I can continue on until the early morning hours. The days that follow kick my butt. "Thank you, Sleep Debt!]

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Authors Notes

This chapter was written by the author RedPandaChick. She's the author of Gaining Acceptance (Complete), Chdrtsly, and Lotus Balm. More power to you and we hope you keep on writing more fantastic stories for everyone to enjoy!