Writer's Block Sucks

I hate writer's block. I'm just going to say it out loud right now. I hate it with every fiber of my being. Being a professional author, this condition is literally the bane of my income. My name is Harry Gordan. I am the famous author of the horror novel series Venturing Into The Bermuda Triangle. I guess the best thing I could do is just tell my story, and hope none of you make the same mistake that I did.
I am a young adult around the age of 27. I have a wife named Erica and a daughter named Kayla. Kayla is an angel and a true gift to the world. We live in the one and only New York City, and I am proud to live there. I would take my dear Kayla down to Central Park and we'd always play a game of hide and seek there. We'd have boundaries for how far we could hide, of course, but that didn't stop us from playing there. I loved to take walks down on the sidewalks of Manhattan, and to see the sights of the city. It never got old.
It happened during our game of hide and seek. I was hiding, and Kayla was seeking. I had found this incredibly great area to hide in. You know that one area with white and pink flowers? I hid right in the middle of them, and wore only pink and white! It was brilliant! I was able to completely blend in with the flowers! There was no way she'd find me.
I sat there for around thirty minutes before I finally felt worried. She shouldn't be taking this long to find me. Come to think of it, I never saw her pass this area. I got out of my hiding spot and started down the path scanning for her in every direction. "Kayla? Kayla, where are you?" I asked, "I give up! You win!"
No response.
I started sweating bullets.
"Kayla! Please, just come here! I give up!" I pleaded, hoping that she was just too far away.
Nothing.
I raced down the path, hoping that I could find some sign of Kayla anywhere. As I was reaching the lake, that's where I found it.
Kayla's glasses.
They were on the ground next to the lake bed, and they were broken.
I couldn't find any other trace of her. No footprints, no torn bits of clothing, not even blood! I called the police and after a long and drawn-out investigation they found something that made the blood in my body thin.
Kayla's waterlogged body was pulled out of the lake.
My wife and I had never been the same since. My wife didn't believe it to be righteous to cremate her, so we buried her body in the cemetery. As I'd walk from my workshop every night, I would hear my wife crying herself to sleep. She couldn't compose herself so easily around me one time, and I noticed it. God, I noticed. At the moment I saw her break into tears in front of me, I knew what I had to do. I...I did the only thing that I could think of.
Now, I know that this brings up so many red flags, but I felt like at that moment I had no choice. Now, I definitely don't have a choice. I went to the library and started looking up ancient civilizations; specifically ones that had incredibly creepy and dark rituals. That's when I found a very special Aztec ritual that was actually restricted by the Aztecs all those years ago. Apparently, it involved writing; my forte. I knew what I had to do then.
I don't know anything about the Aztec language, but I do know that the name of this ritual was called the "Reanimation Ritual". This ritual required me to take out a small piece of paper, retrieve the body of the person I wanted to reanimate, prick my finger with a needle and spell out the name of this person onto the paper. Then, I'd take out a piece of paper of my own and write my own name on it with blood. Finally, I would start writing about anything. I should've read the warning. As I started writing on my paper, I started to feel weaker. Less like... myself. Even now, I can feel myself going, losing control. Maybe it would've been better if I had writer's block. Then, at least, I wouldn't have to give myself up for Kayla's return...
Erica, if you are reading this, send this everywhere you can. I decided to start with this end in mind just in case anything went sour, and I guess I wasn't wrong. Know that no matter what, I will always be with you in your heart. I will never forget you, Erica, and what you mean to me.
Oh, and one more thing...
If you see Kayla walking around...
Do not talk or interact with her at all.
She's no longer my baby girl.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Rituwel
Category:WHAT A TWIST!
Category:Stupid is as the main character does
Category:The Title Is A Lie
Category:That just raises more questions!
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck