Last night I tried to squeeze words out of my head in an attempted to write the second chapter of my story. But the words refused to comply.
I gave up and went to bed. While I was in the stage of falling asleep, the stage where you dream, yet you are still awake and conscious, words and sentences started pouring like a heavy London rain. I was too lazy to get out of my warm covers and write them down, I thought I could write them down when I wake up. The next morning, I got a pen and paper, and tried to recover the sentences that were formed by the word storm of the previous night, but with no success. I could see them laughing at me, like mischievous children "We give you only one chance!" ... and they giggle away.