This post is part of StoryADay May (https://storyaday.org/) #StoryADay #StoryADayMay @storyadaymay #freeshortstory #OneLinerWednesday

StoryADay in May’s slogan is: Write this May, not ‘some day’!

Write Every Day

“I don’t wanna I don’t wanna I don’t wanna….”

The whine was endless. It was mine. I was whining.

The horned, tailed, red devil sitting on my left shoulder whispered, “You don’t have to. You don’t win or lose with StoryADay. It’s a challenge, not an imperative. Skip a day. You know you want to.”

The white-robed, haloed, bewinged angel on my right shoulder spoke in a voice like the very best, very nicest, very most musical wind chimes. “The devil is right. Writing should be a joy, not a chore. You can skip a day. It’s all right. You’re still a good person.”

“You two are NOT HELPING!”

It was late morning of the fifteenth day of StoryADay May and I was procrastinating … again. Only halfway through, and I had run out of steam. I had set my alarm that morning for 6 in the AM, had turned off the alarm and gone back to sleep, had eaten breakfast and faffed around, and still hadn’t even begun my daily story.

“Lazy bum!” I said to myself. “Piker! Sloth is a deadly sin! Write a goddamned story already!”

The angel stroked my cheek. “Be nice to yourself.”

The devil said, “That’s right. Be nice to yourself and give yourself the day off.”

I wept. “I tried that last week. It didn’t work. I had to write a story by the end of the day. I had to! Had to, I say, do you hear me? I had to!”

“Autistic, much?” the devil murmured. The angel reached around the back of my neck and slapped the devil playfully on the shoulder.

“Oh, stop it, you!” she said. “You’re terrible!”

“Hello,” said the devil. “I’m a personification of evil. Have you met me?”

“Pipe down, you two,” I whined. “I can’t hear myself think!”

I could feel both of them staring at me, one from each side of my head.

In unison, they said, “We are you hearing yourself think. Jinx!” I couldn’t see them hook jinx pinkies behind my back, but I knew they were doing it.

We sat still for a minute. Then another minute. Then another minute. The devil drummed his heels against my clavicle. The angel took off her halo and polished it on the hem of her robe, then put it back on at a rakish angle. She leaned back and showed the devil, who laughed and pulled his horns crooked.

My whine became a growl. I reached up and grabbed the personification and held them at my eye level.

“Okay, then,” I said, “how about a romance? Once upon a time, there were and angel and a demon who fell in love.”

“It’s been done,” they both said. “Jinx!”

“Oh, but it’s StoryADay,” I said. “The point isn’t to write something good or original; the point is just to write. Write every day. Stories come from writing. Good stories come from editing. Great stories come from proper polishing.”

The devil said, “Stupid.”

The angel said, “Well put.”

I said, “And then the devil and the angel who were in love disagreed about something and wanted a divorce, but they were both Catholic and the pope wouldn’t give them an annulment.”

“What?” said the angel. “Yes, he would! He totally would!”

“Not the pope in my head,” I said. “Ask him.”

I stuffed the devil in through my left ear and the angel in through my right ear and triumphantly trumpeted, “The end!”

MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: StoryADay May’s slogan.

MA