Cristian Mihai

One night someone knocks at your door. A tall, black man. He speaks with a Jamaican accent. This man tells you that you have to pick one of your many ideas, works in progress, and finish it. That story’s the last one you’ll ever write. He tells you that you have until tomorrow to write as much as you can. He doesn’t tell you what’s going to happen after that.

You have 24 hours to write your story. You have no future, which makes the present that much more important. You can’t tell yourself, “I’ll wait until I become a better writer.” All your ideas, they mean nothing now. Because, whether you like it or not, you won’t get a chance to write them.

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