Elliot has been sitting in front of the computer for the past 2 weeks with the intention of writing the first draft of a novel. He has handcuffed himself to the chair and handed the keys to a person who will not visit him until he has received an email with the first draft of the story.

Hunger keeps him awake, he can’t remember the last time he slept and for some time now his dreams have merged with the walls, now crowded with imaginary beings. An endless gallery of noisy beings that keep laughing at him, handcuffed in the chair and unable to write a single word since the torture began. In an effort not to pay attention, Elliot runs his gaze to the window, where a crow crashes against the glass and pierces it with its body. The bird falls to the floor of the room and writhes in pain. Elliot gets up from the chair to assist him, but can’t reach him because of the cuffed arm.

– I can’t help him.

Elliot sits back down, the crow tries to fly away from its own foretold death, whipping itself against the walls and causing new commotion among the imaginary people.

– Do something for the poor guy!

Hysterical cries from the people on the walls, one by one and all together, in unison, claiming for the bird’s life, claiming for the interrupted calm. Elliot raises his shoulders in sign of “nothing I can do” and “the handcuff on the arm” he indicates pointing with the index finger of his free hand.

Ah, you always have an excuse!

Again the screams of a thousand beings, monsters some would say, fall on the restless mind of Elliot, who pretends to write on the computer. But the trick doesn’t work, in his impatience, he stretches out one of his feet to reach the crow and drags it to grab it with his free arm.

Ah, I knew he would make it!

Elliot is grateful for the words of support from the creatures on the walls and leaves the crow next to the pale light of the computer screen, tucked in a sweatshirt. The wind blows hard through the window, a sharp chill runs down his back, the time is coming, the time he has spent without food has brought him to this state, maybe the bird will be saved.

You can do it! Courage!

The beings on the walls are in an uproar, they become fervent in support of the writer who is agonizing in front of them. An incipient smile leads Elliot to put his hands in front of the computer and type….

“The endless storm accompanies a raven that has been forced to be the messenger of death and yet flies with strength to escape this cruel fate. The dark clouds always accompanying him in suffering, in the war fields of a world accustomed to spill blood on the ground. The raven finally understands that the only way to leave behind the misfortunes of men, which come from selfish desires, is to sacrifice his own life to stop the designs of death and to free the dreams of men from the inevitable end of all things”.

Elliot finishes writing and sends the first draft using the last bit of energy he has left, then falls on the desk with his eyes still open. He stares at the horizon visible from the window, where an intense light interrupts the deep night and blurs the outline of all things.