Muse
The last month not one word came from my head and
into my computer. I poured a scotch and until I was hammered.
“Muse where have you gone?” I shouted, “I can’ see
you anymore”
An eerie screeching sound permeated and filled my
heart with dread.
“You just couldn’t do it yourself could you?” a
beautiful woman stated appearing before me out of a puff of smoke.
She had hair of gold long and flowing; her the colour
of violets and…
“Good grief, even the way you picture me is sexist.
Mind if I transform myself into another image you have?”
I nodded speechless and she transformed into a
nondescript woman with short brown hair who wore glasses and had brown hair.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Duh, your muse, Calliope.”
“But my muse is just my inner voice.”
“Just like a man always taking credit for a woman’s
work.”
“If you’re my muse where have you been the last
month?”
“What am I your slave? I went on a well-earned
vacation.”
“Are you going to help me now?”
“Already demanding things from me; can’t I have five
minutes to get back in the swing of things?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s better. Let’s begin.”
Calliope dictated a story to me and then
disappeared. I reformed and made it my own. The story was an even bigger best
seller than my other books maybe that’s because I gave credit where credit was
due with a dedication to my muse.
©Sheilagh Lee March 14, 2018
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