She thinks I don’t see her lurking behind me.
Dressed in my favorite black leathers she clings to the ceiling like a black widow spider but she’s much more lethal. I can see her reflection in my computer screen but I choose to ignore her rather than acknowledge her presence.
I know it drives her crazy when I ignore her but sometimes, when it comes to my Muse, ignorance is bliss.
She always knows what I’m thinking but I can’t read her, not the way she can read me.
She’s unpredictable and capable of anything. Me? I’m predictably capable of disappointing her. Which isn’t really the best way to endear one’s self to one’s Muse.
Seems I’ve been disappointing everybody lately.
What sucks the most is that I know I’m all fucked up in the head these days, I know I’m in robot mode but I can’t shake it off. I need a Moonstruck Moment.
“Snap out of it!”
“Get out of my head and stop slapping me in the face! Damn that hurt!” My right cheek is burning from her hard crack across my face and my left one joins in with an embarrassed rage for letting her catch me unaware, even when I knew she was there.
“Somebody had to do it chica, this Debbie Downer mood is getting old.” She shoved me back into my chair and stared at me, expressionless.
Did I mention she’d yanked me to my feet before she slapped me in the face?
“Why do you have to be all hurty with me? You’re my Muse, why can’t you be nice like the Good Witch in The Wizard Of Oz and wave a wand or something…” my voice trailed off as her face went from angry to angrier. I did not want to see angriest.
“Ok, obviously I fucked up again. Let’s start this over, yeah?
“Witch? You compare me to a Good Witch?”
Shit. This is the part where things go south and I am so not in the mood.
She continued to stare at me for what seemed like hours but in reality was barely a second. Something synched. There was a shift in my brain, I don’t know how else to describe it.
I was staring into her eyes but I was seeing me staring out of her eyes. That makes no sense but I don’t know how else to say it.
I saw me and I wanted to slap my own self in the face.
Breaking eye contact wasn’t easy but I did and I was pissed.
Pissed at me, pissed at her, pissed at every single person I knew, every one who “loved me” and that list continued to grow shorter and shorter, just generally pissed. Angry. Mad. Furious.
Because it was all my fault.
Her head tilted the way it does when she’s curious.
“Why do you blame yourself chica? And for what reason?”
“And why can’t you let me wallow in guilt?” I mumble, knowing she hears me anyway.
Then she did something she never did once, ever.
She stood me up and hugged me. Just like that. My crazy dominatrix of a Muse, who loved nothing better than to drive me crazy instead of inspiring me to write, hugged me.
For a minute I let myself accept it.
Minute over. I pulled away.
“What do you want now?” I walk to the other side of the room and cross my arms as I lean back against the counter.
“You’re learning chica, you’re learning.” She slunk her way over to me, planting one arm on either side of me.
Her breath was a blend of flowery deceit, but she was all I had, I didn’t get to pick my Muse.
“And I didn’t get to pick you chica, but we’re stuck together for now.” She leaned in closer, her mouth next to my ear, “Whatever your problem is, and we both know what it is, get your act together chica, the next time I show up, you better be ready to get back in the game. Things are heating up and you for some unknown reason, are needed. Sooner we get this done the sooner we can break this bond.”
She disappeared, as usual, in a puff of smoke.
Huh. I didn’t know there was a way out of this, that I could get rid of this crazy Muse and get back to normal, whatever that might be.
Well, I always do work best under pressure.
AUTHORS NOTE: oddly, the authors note I just wrote disappeared, I think it was my Muse, I swear I didn’t say anything bad about her, she just likes to mess with me, she says it keeps me on my toes to which I say I took tap lessons thank you very much, I don’t do ballet…anyway, what I meant to say is, my Muse is off fighting the Djinn War without me for reasons I can’t divulge yet, but she does come to check in on me from time to time… she just left, maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention she was here but hey, it’s my blog, she can get her own. Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of me and my Muse, as Karen Carpenter sang, we’ve only just begun…
to be continued…
She’s gone again.
It wouldn’t be so bad, I mean, I’m used to her leaving me, but this time she didn’t me leave alone. No, wait, I said that wrong.
I mean she left me alone, as in taking everyone with her.
She took them all.
Every single one of my creations are gone. My babies, my pains-in-the-ass, acting-out-on-their-own, never-listen-to-me-anyway wonderful shards of my own warped self have left me high and dry because my Muse is pissed off at me and decided to treat everyone to a tropical vacation in some undisclosed location.
Well, everyone but me.
Look, I get it, winter has been eleventy thousand days of ice and snow and all the fuckery that comes with it but c’mon Muse-O-Mine, just because you’re holed up in some fancy resort with Lizzie and James and Catt and Alison and Ian and Djinn, I mean really! I get why Persephone isn’t here right now but you have Djinn and I’m freezing and have writers block because you’re a flat-leaver!!!
It’s my fault she took off, she hates the cold when she feels like it and apparently she feels like it now. And because she’s my Muse everything she does is my fault.
Well that’s what she told me at least.
I have a theory, I think there’s a Mysterious Muse Retreat somewhere that controls this block associated with writers.
See, we think it’s our fault, we have writers block therefore we are sometimes unable to write, right?
So check it out, maybe our Muses all get together and go on the Super Secret Mysterious Muse Getaway and fuck with us from wherever the hell they are.
Oh, there’s nothing we can do about it. It just is.
Let’s look at it this way, next week we change the clocks, Spring begins, the Sun will shine a little longer each day and we can stop wearing 17 layers of clothes and by the way, we all know how attractive that looks.
The Point: It’s almost here my lovelies, we shall all become immersed in inspiration and type our fingers down to the bone.
In the meantime, Muse O’Mine, could you please get your hot ass back here so I can stir up some mayhem? At the very least, Lizzie and James really need some way overdue sexy time.
Besides, I heard the Muse Rules may be changing and, well, you see, there’s this cute little piece of dynamite going by the name of Blue* who’s been looking for some excitement, not that I want to replace my Muse but you know how it is, one should always have a backup plan.
I learned that from my Muse.
*Blue, as you should know, is from TRG’s Fiction Relay http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com/2012/10/23/fiction-relay-homepage/
There’s been a mini-hiatus but fear not dear readers, we’re about to wrap it up and start a new one. Now would be a perfect time to catch up on the story so far, don’tcha think?
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
I’m trying to work on something, unsure of the direction I want to go. I lean back in my chair and light yet another cigarette hoping to find inspiration in a haze of smoke. Or maybe in the bottom of my teacup.
“You can’t ignore me forever missy. I’ve got time and lots of it. More than I can say for you.”
There had to be a way to stir up something interesting to write about. Hell, I have so much clutter in my brain there has to be something I can scrape together that won’t bore the masses as much as it bores me.
“You aren’t the only one who’s bored, I’ve been yawning my head off for the last couple months while you continue to make no decisions. I mean come on already! An intervention didn’t help, it made things worse if it did anything.”
There’s an annoying buzz in my ear, like that elusive mosquito on a hot summer night, you know it’s there but you can’t quite figure out where it is or how to get rid of it.
“Please. You won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I’m here, I’ll always be here, like it or not. Get over it.”
Maybe it was one of my cats again. They were always up to something that involved weird noises and destruction. Lately they’ve added snoring to their repertoire.
That annoying straight line on my computer screen keeps blinking at me, a mix of disdain and disgust like it wants to take me by the throat and shake the words out of me.
“If you don’t get moving soon I’m going to do more than shake the words out of you. You, missy, need a good old fashioned over the knee spanking. Which actually sounds like a good idea now that I’m thinking about it… and by the way missy, I know you hear me so knock it off with the ignoring of moi.”
“Nope,” say I, “I hear nothing.” I try to give it my best Sargent Shultz try but I suck at accents and I don’t think my Muse is a big fan of Hogan’s Heroes.
“What I’m not a big fan of is you not doing anything.”
She hovered over my keyboard now, finally showing herself even though I knew she was there all along.
Mostly I was just being a bitch to annoy her. Writer’s block can make a person do strange things, ignoring one’s Muse probably isn’t the best way to be productive.
“Listen to you using all those words just to say you suck, I’m almost impressed! Why don’t you try putting your fingers on the trigger and start typing?”
“Because you’re sitting on my keyboard?”
Couldn’t stop myself, the words were out before I could bite my tongue. I’m really in no mood for a conversation with my Muse right now, I should have kept my mouth shut.
“First of all I’m hovering, not sitting; secondly, I know what you’re going to say before you even think it. You seem to forget who’s in charge here.”
I blink and she’s standing behind me, leaning over my shoulder looking at the blank screen in front of me.
“Why are you even here?” I ask. “You’re supposed to be in a file marked “Muse Drafts”.”
“Yeah, right next to the files marked “Lizzie and James” and “Tower Story”, been there done that. I’m bored.”
“Well if you’re so bored then why don’t you do your job and muse me up already?”
Her left eyebrow arched so high it nearly reached her hairline.
Shit. Here we go again, another round of beat on the brat.
“You are a brat,” she hissed. Which is pretty impressive considering there are no “s’s” in the sentence she-
“Hey!” She slapped me in the face! “You slapped me in the face!”
“Your choice missy; stop fucking around, get your ass writing, or I’ll get your ass burning and believe me, I have plenty of experience when it comes to a good old fashioned brat-spanking.”
I have to admit, I considered it.
I mean she did look pretty hot in her leather and I was being bratty and maybe I’m reading too much erotica lately. Then again I did go to Catholic school and I was being bratty. And did I mention she looked pretty hot in her leather?
“Stop repeating yourself. And since you seem so anxious for a spanking you’re not getting one. Now.”
I can feel my face flaming at the turn this conversation is taking and she laughs, at me, not with me of course.
My Muse has a sadistic streak.
“And don’t forget it chica,” she blows me a kiss before disappearing for who knows how long.
Abandoned, as usual, it’s just me and a blank screen once again, that fucking blinking line taunting me still.
“Tie her hands tighter, she’s a sneaky one, she is. Thinks she can wiggle out of anything. Make sure she can’t get away.”
“Hey! Wait a minute,” I said indignantly. “What the fuck is go-mmmmmmmmm!!!”
“Gag her; the only time she shuts up is when she has something in her mouth.”
I thought the voices sounded vaguely familiar but couldn’t quite figure out who was talking. Whoever they were, they’d blindfolded me. They must be pro’s.
One minute I was sleeping the sleep of the depressed and exhausted, next thing I knew I was tied to a chair, couldn’t see a thing, and now somebody had shoved something in my mouth so I couldn’t say a word.
I hate when I can’t say a word.
I also hated the taste of the washcloth somebody shoved in my mouth to shut me up. It tasted like soap.
Another voice spoke up. “Can’t we cut her some slack? She’s had a rough time lately; you know it could just as easily be one of us tied to that chair.”
I heard a deep male growl followed by yet another voice, this one female, whispering something to the growler about how they had to do this but they didn’t have to be so rough. I assumed she was talking about me.
I had no clue as to what was going on. It couldn’t be kidnapping because nobody I knew had money for ransom and I couldn’t think of a single reason anyone would want to kidnap me anyway.
Maybe I was dreaming, except the washcloth in my mouth and the restraints holding me down threw that theory out the window. I couldn’t even ask them what they wanted because whoever shoved the washcloth in my mouth decided duct tape was needed to keep it in place, my tongue was starting to hurt from trying to push it out of my mouth and I was doing my best to squirm my way out of the restraints.
“We’re not trying to hurt you,” another voice this time. How many people were here?
“We just want to talk to you. And we want you to listen. If you promise to listen to what we have to say nod your head and we’ll take off the blindfold and take that washcloth out of your mouth. But if you don’t let us have our say it goes right back in, ok?”
Huh? Who were these people and what did they want with me? Only one way to find out so I nodded my head and true to her word, the calm-voiced female took off my blindfold first. Maybe she wanted to gauge my reaction before she yanked off the duct tape.
Can’t say I blamed her when my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw I was surrounded by people I both knew and didn’t know. There was a familiarity in each pair of eyes watching my every move but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I knew them, but didn’t.
I sat still, my eyes taking in each and every one of them staring at me.
They stood around me, arms folded. I could feel the hostility in the air, mixed with disappointment, all of it aimed at me.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
The woman speaking was so beautiful she was hard to look at. She seemed to glow but it was her eyes that bore into me, kaleidoscope eyes swirling with colors that had me mesmerized. Dressed from head to toe in tight leather, she held a whip in her right hand, smacking it against the palm of her left hand. When I didn’t answer she cracked the whip in the air coming dangerously close to my face.
“You do realize she can’t answer you till you take your makeshift gag out of her mouth,” said the large green man with the yellow cat-like eyes.
Leather-girl’s eyes flashed red at green man, the look of annoyance on her face rose to a level I’d never seen before. She was scaring the hell out of me but I tried to keep calm and breathe. Through my nose.
Green man and leather girl were now involved in a stare-off and if I had to guess, they were arguing silently. Who were these people and what did they want with me?
As their silent argument continued my eyes took in the rest of the crowd surrounding me.
A tall thin woman with gorgeous red hair and flashing blue eyes stood next to two identical strapping hunks of man. One of the men winked at me and flashed a grin revealing fangs and the redheaded beauty jabbed him in his side with her elbow.
There was a young boy, looked to be in his late teens wearing glasses that were obviously the wrong size. He kept pushing them up the bridge of his nose, but I could barely see his face, his hair was unkempt and covered most of his features.
Standing next to him was another woman, by the looks of her she was young but her eyes made her look like she’d been through too much for any one person to handle. Something about her stirred something inside me, made me want to comfort her which was kinda weird considering she was part of the kidnapping contingent.
Standing next to them was a tall statuesque woman; her hair flowed down her back in natural curls, an aura of goodness emanated from her and she looked at me with a mixture of kindness and disappointment.
What the hell did I do to her?
She was flanked by a dark dangerous looking man on one side and a dog with three heads on the other. I wondered if somebody spiked my drink last night and I was hallucinating.
The arguing between leather girl and green man had slowly grown from silent to loud and louder until they were screaming at each other.
“Would you two knock it off?” A girl I hadn’t noticed pushed her way through the crowd surrounding me and leaned into me. “Sorry doll, it’ll only hurt for a second.” With that she yanked the duct tape off my mouth and pulled the soapy washcloth out of my mouth.
“Oww!” I couldn’t help it, duct tape hurts when it’s yanked off your face.
“Give me a bottle of water,” she shouted at the sexy leather-clad dominatrix woman and a bottle of Poland Springs water appeared in the girl’s hand.
I was impressed with her, dominatrix leather girl was not someone to be taken lightly, but this girl, who was kindly holding the bottle to my mouth, she seemed like she didn’t have a fear in the world.
“Sip slowly,” she said, “we don’t want you getting sick-”
“She means don’t puke on her,” leather girl said.
After shooting her a glare she turned back to me. “Ignore her, she’s not going to hurt you, none of us are, we just need to talk to you. Oh yeah, my name is Catt by the way. She,” Catt waved her hand in leather girl’s direction, is my Muse. She’s also my Djinn but that’s a complicated story-”
“A story you of all people should know,” said leather girl.
The big green hulk-like one stepped forward with a sweeping bow, “I can’t tell you my name but you already know that.”
Wait a minute, this was beginning to sound familiar.
“It damn well better sound familiar!” Leather girl growled as she read my mind.
“Get out of my head,” I said defensively.
“That’s the whole point of this little pow-wow!” she snarled. “We’re trying to get out of your head and you’re not cooperating!”
Silence from me as I began to get it.
“Ahem, can we get on with the introductions? I’ve got things to do, I don’t have time for this shit. I’m Alison by the way, but you call me Ally, and this, of course, is The Kid.”
The shaggy haired kid pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose for the millionth time and huffed, “Stop calling me Kid. And you,” he pointed at me, “least you can do is give me a name.”
I was sensing a mutiny on my hands which was apparently my own fault.
“Don’t tell me,” I said as I looked at the fanged trio, “You’re Lizzie, and you’re James and Ian, or Ian and James, you two really are identical!”
I looked around at the other three and it hit me. “Oh shit, you’re Hades and Persephone.”
A trio of barks sounded annoyance.
“Sorry Cerbie, Didn’t mean to leave you out.” I said with as much humility as I could muster up under the circumstances.
“But you did! You left us all out. You’re so busy jumping from story to story you lost your focus!”
Leather whip girl was getting agitated pacing back and forth snapping her whip.
They were right, all of them, all of this was my fault.
These were my own creations and I’d left them high and dry while I whittled away my time writing poetry and putting things off because I couldn’t make a decision.
I wanted to spend time with all of them but unless I figure out a way to clone myself I had to make a choice, stick with it, and finish something instead of hopping around from story to story.
All of the sudden, out of nowhere, a motorcycle came crashing right through the wall screeching to a halt a mere inch or so from the chair I was still tied to.
Pulling off the motorcycle helmet my eyes nearly popped out of my head as a young girl with blue hair looked me straight in the eye and smirked.
“Come on, get off your ass already. As you already know, I’m Blue and you’ve got an appointment with a not-so-little thing called the Fiction Relay and things are wrapping up over there. TRG is the last person you wanna piss off.”
She hopped off the bike and strolled over to me, released me from my restraints and grabbed me by the hand.
“Sorry guys, you’re all gonna have to wait a little bit longer,” Blue said to the crowd. “She’s needed bad and she’s needed now. I’ll make sure she gets back to you soon as possible.”
They all stood there open-mouthed, all the characters I’d created and abandoned and was about to abandon again.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” I yelled out as Blue and I sped away on her motorcycle to the sound of a lot of screaming, arguing, and cursing.
Oh man, I was in for it when I got back.
But first I had some things to take care of in the mountains.
Fiction Relay, here I come.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: it seems a few characters from some of my WIPs (W’sIP?) got together and ganged up on me to get my ass in gear, snowstorms, internet problems due to said snowstorms and the whole holiday thing kept me away for longer than they liked so they kidnapped me (while the internet kept going out by the way) to give me a little talking to but Blue from Fiction Relay got my ass out of there because they’re all frozen in time waiting for me, you know, the mountains and coyotes and all the good stuff won’t unfreeze till I get my ass in gear so Blue got me out of a sticky situation that will be waiting for me after I write my chapter of TRG’s Fiction Relay. Time to get working. It’s a new year, time to get my ducks in a row. But my characters are gonna kick my ass if I don’t get writing, so back to the New Normal. I hope all you lovelies will join me. Time to take down the tree and get writing. xox
Mostly, she waits.
She’s used to being an afterthought, used to being on the bottom of the list assuming she’s on the list at all.
Used to being used.
She wasn’t always this way, there was a time when she was strong and secure.
Although it took a long time to get to that place in her life where she felt confident, sure of herself,
it didn’t take long for her to slide back into old habits, back into the invisible she knew so well.
That’s a lie.
It was a long slow descent back into the invisible, a comment here, a look there, and before she knew it she was right back to the shadow of herself she had been most of her life.
It was as if there was a switch hidden somewhere, a switch she had no access to.
Just a series of clicks controlling her every move.
She’d appear when it was time to cook and clean.
She’d appear when there was a need for an entertainer, a hostess, a whore.
Then ‘click’ and she’s gone.
Invisible girl once again.
They put Baby in the corner.
They cornered Baby, held her down and raped her spirit.
They stole her soul.
Left her broken.
One day she noticed something strange. She began to fade in and out on her own, without a switch controlling her.
When she first noticed this she was apathetic, convinced this was a trick of some kind, a test to make sure Baby knew her place, invisible and in the corner waiting to be used.
There was something else she noticed, she began to see flickers, shadows of others fading in and out at another’s control. What she saw, that she was not alone in the invisible, stuck in her mind and she began to wonder.
She began to remember what she was before they raped her soul.
She began to remember there was goodness, there was light and laughter beyond her invisible, a different kind of laughter, not at her but with her.
That she was strong once and she could be strong again, that if she fell and no one was there to catch her she could bounce back up by herself.
The back door slams so hard the entire house shakes around me.
I hear the loud crash of a mirror shatter in another room and I flinch.
My muse is back and apparently not in a very good mood.
This is getting ridiculous. I haven’t written a word in days, since she last left me actually, but I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing-
“Don’t even think you can hide anything from me missy, I’m not her.”
I shiver at the piercing sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from an almost familiar sight, she’s my muse, but not.
A distorted funhouse version of my muse towers over me, her eyes dagger-like as she stares me down, freezing me in place.
“Clichés,” she spits out the word, her breath, fetid and frozen slides over my skin leaving my body encased in an icy coating.
As I begin to tremble from the cold, microscopic cracks weaken the ice, tiny flakes falling from my flesh dissipating into nothing.
I open my mouth to speak and she grabs a handful of my hair, yanking hard.
“You don’t speak until I say you can speak,” she growls. She cracks me across the face with so much force I fly across the room, landing in a heap on the floor.
“There are rules missy,” she grabs me by the hair again as I attempt to crawl in the direction of outside my house.
I spit out a mouthful of blood, along with several back teeth.
“I don’t follow rules,” I tell her as I wipe a hand across my bloody mouth.
After an eternity of silence she speaks.
“You don’t need them anyway,” she sneers. “Back teeth, not rules. Although some rules are meant to be broken, just like you.”
“-always wanted that hollow-cheek-boned look, isn’t that what you meant to say?”
She crouches down to my level, her head cocked curiously.
Staring at me intensely she examines everything I am and appears almost puzzled. She’s puzzled? How the fuck does she think I feel? And where the hell is my muse?
“You’ve never been trained have you?”
She snaps her blood-tipped fingers and a riding crop appears in her perfect hands.
I push myself up, I’m halfway to my knees when I notice the jeans I’ve been wearing have turned into black silky thigh-high stockings complete with spiked heels and an extremely tight corset.
“I’m not an animal, I don’t need to be trained.” I squirm uncomfortably at what suddenly seems to be a lie falling from my lips.
“Well you’re a miserable excuse for a human little girlie, I’d go with the pet label if I were you.”
“What did you do to her?” I don’t have to take this shit, this is my house. “Where’s my muse?”
“I don’t believe I gave you permission to question anything, especially me,” her voice drips icicles suspended in mid-air. “You’re not so good when it comes to following orders are you…don’t answer that.”
The handle of her riding crop trails along my spine and my body trembles involuntarily.
She taps her lethal heels against the floor, one finger sliding slow and sensual across her bottom lip as if she were deciding whether she should devour me or not. Her eyes give nothing away.
“Be a good little pet and go into the parlor said the spider to the fly. I’m not exactly sure what to do with you just yet.”
In the blink of an eye I’m shackled to my very own straight-backed chair, hands behind my back, legs apart and unable to move.
“Where is she?” I can’t stand this feeling, not being in control of my own muse is one thing, but this, I don’t even know what this is.
“I need her,” I unexpectedly utter.
“You need her,” she mimics me, sarcasm drips heavy from every word she says. “Aren’t you just the cutest little thing when you beg.”
“I don’t beg,” I tell her.
“You will,” she snaps. “By the time I’m done with you, you will.”
I notice she holds a scarf of some sort in her hands and my mind suddenly fills with images of me blindfolded and helpless.
“Oh this isn’t for your eyes baby girl.”
Silk cloth slides smooth against my skin as she wraps it loosely around my throat.
God help me she’s going to strangle me.
“Wrong as usual,” she chortled. “This is for your mouth, to shut you up for awhile. I have a demonstration to present and I command silence.”
She snaps her fingers again and the taste of silk slides down my throat. Concurrently a huge screen drops from my ceiling filled with images flashing fast and furiously.
I recognize no-one yet everything I see seems familiar.
“Now shut your mouth,” she says softly as one finger reaches for the cloth gagging me, “In a manner of speaking, that is.”
“Pay attention to details missy, there may be a pop quiz later.”
She giggles at a private joke I’m not in on as the scenes on the screen speed up. The flashing images catch an unholy glimmer in her eyes and one strong hand comes down on my head, forcing me to watch.
“I’m going to show you what a real writer can do.”
I swallow a scream at the sight on the screen.
“This is just the beginning.” Her mouth doesn’t move as she speaks, her words imprint themselves on my brain.
“Buckle up girlie-girl, it really is going to be a bumpy ride.”
Her laugh is maniacal as I come undone.
to be continued…
“You know you’re gonna screw it up.”
Her voice comes out of nowhere, loud enough to rattle the windows.
Shit. She’s back.
And I’ve been outed.
As in shine-your-light-on-me-Miss-Liberty-outed.
As in all-eyes-on-me-outed.
As in oh-fuck-what-now-outed.
“You can’t just thrust yourself into the middle of something all willy-nilly and expect results Missy.”
Each word is another bullet shattering my spine leaving me paralyzed.
I glance at the chapter I’d just spent hours writing and lose every ounce of confidence I had.
She was right.
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”
She waves her hand lazy in my direction as if she’s swatting away an annoying fly and I find myself face-down and naked on an unfamiliar carpet in my own living room.
She towers over me, one sharp spiked heel pressed painfully against my spine somewhere between my 4th and 5th vertebra.
I bite my lip to keep silent.
“No pain no gain chica,” she howls gleefully as she drags me slow from one side of the room to the other.
Her claw-like fingernails dig painfully into my scalp, drops of my blood fall like red teardrops.
My mouth tastes of copper pennies dipped in salt and I wonder where my clothes went.
I feel my flesh peeling back layer by layer, my bare skin stinging as she drags me face-down across the scratchiest rug I’ve ever felt. Talk about rug-burn-
“Rug-burn is what separates the men from the boys chica,” she interrupts me mid-thought, “Now get in position and give me 20.”
Her lovely manicured hand comes down and slaps me once, twice, three times across my bottom.
“You can’t even make yourself say ass you pathetic whining fool.”
She leans into me, sharply yanking my head back as she says this and I squirm in embarrassment, uncomfortable in the knowledge that she’s right.
“How many times do we have to go over this? I’m always right.”
Unexpectedly she releases her grip in disgust and I scramble away from her till I can’t go any further.
I find myself backed into a corner at the end of the hallway, the full length mirror reflecting back a nightmare.
Her leather-clad foot taps out a beat on the now hardwood floor, her arms folded, loathing in her eyes. Or maybe the loathing was in my own eyes.
“You,” she spits out, “are a fool. And you know what they say about fools and mirrors.”
At my blank look she rolls her eyes.
“Look it up,” she sneers, “and while you’re at it, look at your own self. Your half hearted efforts disgust me.”
I try to look at myself in the mirror and see nothing but bottomless chaos.
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” I attempt to reason with her, “and you’re the one who keeps disappearing.”
It’s true too, my muse always seems to disappear when I need her most.
“What is this,the blame-game?”
She hates when I dare to question her authority.
“There’s not a damn thing gonna turn out right if you don’t start taking some responsibility missy.” Her voice took on a decided chill, disappointment dripping from every syllable.
“When did you become so complacent,” she asked coldly.
A growing layer of frost forms over my entire body at her words.
“Truth hurts, don’t it chica?”
Her voice is like stale smoke.
I find it hard to catch my breath as her words began to swirl around me tornado-like.
“Bad enough you’ve bored me for so long, now you’re going for the masses?”
I hate when she’s right.
you can read more about my muse if the link i tried to add worked, but if it didn’t, My Muse Can Be A Harsh Mistress is over —-> there somewhere and as usual, to be continued
Everyone is asleep except me.
Sleep eludes me as I toss and turn restlessly. My thoughts tangle and twist in my head and I try to grasp onto that one strand that will soothe me, allowing me to drift off into the Land of Nod.
It doesn’t work. I can’t turn my mind off.
I sigh along with the unending sound of snores filling the house, all out of tune. Even the cats are snoring along with the humans.
I can’t lie here anymore watching the time slip away so I get out of bed and slip my bare feet into my warm fuzzy Uggs. I wrap myself in my favorite fleece blanket and slip outside with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.
I sit on the deck in the back yard and watch the late night sky.
It’s a clear cold night and the stars sparkle and shine, a glittery compliment to the near-full moon. It’s so beautifully silent.
A perfect time for reflection. Time alone to think back on all the twists and turns of Life that led me right here to this very moment.
No one here but me, a few fireflies, and the glorious Heavens above.
I don’t want to reflect.
I don’t want to think about the would-haves and should-haves and could-haves.
I don’t want to think about the many roads I’ve travelled.
I don’t want to think of wrong or right or what’s best for me or anyone else for that matter.
Thinking back changes nothing and thinking forward, well that’s just wishing, isn’t it?
Part of me yearns to know what lies ahead, which roads I will travel as impending decisions weigh heavy on my mind.
But as I gaze into the darkness I spot a shooting star and marvel at the wonders of the unknown.
She finds him haunting her thoughts more and more each day regardless of all the clutter she throws in his path.
If she keeps herself occupied with minutia she can go a full five minutes without a trace of him crossing her mind but the slightest little thing can set off a chain reaction bringing her right back to him.
He’s always with her even when he’s not.
It’s been that way for quite some time despite her attempts to keep him far away from her imaginings.
She knew it was wrong to let him have such free rein over her thought patterns but she was powerless when it came to him.
He’d unknowingly trained her that way and she eagerly followed his lead in the game they’d been playing for what seemed like a lifetime.
But somewhere along the way the lines blurred.
Sometimes it became difficult to separate fantasy from reality but one thing remained clear; she belonged to him.
Whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
Nothing more and nothing less.
He made the rules and she followed them.
Of course it was all made easier by the simple fact that her wants were the same as his.
She fought against the primal connection between them and tried to keep her emotions to herself but he knew, somehow he always knew when she needed him most despite her attempts to prove otherwise.
She’d ignore the fire in her belly when his name came up in conversation in an attempt to keep herself under control and she was able to hide her unconscious reaction from everyone but him.
She finds him slipping into her dreams each night, so vivid and clear that when she awakens each morning the first thing she does is reach for him.
He’s never there.
She doodles more often than not, a plain good old fashioned number two pencil flying over the empty page as she encourages something she deems good-enough to manifest itself into magic.
Half the time she stares into the nothing.
She’s surrounded by it, like a bubble.
Regardless of the location, the nothing seems to follow her everywhere she goes.
Her own personal nothing.
It’s not as bad as it sounds, she would tell you if you asked her.
She fills the void around her with her own imaginings culled from everything she’s ever known as well as things she hasn’t.
Sometimes she writes things down in a little notebook she carries with her.
Random words she likes the sound of when spoken out-loud, observations she makes as she stares out the window watching the world go by.
She’s always alone even when she’s not.