Meeting with the Muses

 I sat down with my muses today. I say muses because I have more than one. Each one represents different aspects of my writing. I wanted to meet with them today, to see why they have been so MIA of late. Or, when they did visit, they never stayed long enough, just time to inspire an idea but not enough to fully develop the story into something more.

Horror was quick to point out that the monsters I was jumping at weren't her sort, therefore she didn't want to know anything about them. Romance chimed in, stating that there was nothing she could give me. Drama offered something, but was quick to state that she was in no way responsible for the tangents it might take on. 

The key thing that they were all vocal about was how maybe if I drank less carbonated caffeine, maybe they could find their way to being more vocal. I scoffed at them, telling that I couldn't cope without my addition. Drama demanded an answer, asking if my taste for caffeine played in a part in my whole brain exploding episode a couple of years ago. Before I could point out that there was no scientific evidence, Fantasy, who had been off talking to a patch of grass, returned and asked if there could be a spell on me, cast by a wicked faerie or the like. We all paused, then laughed. Fantasy Muse isn't the most rational of thinkers, but her freedom is inspiring, some of the time at least. She just says something, lets it run wild and leaves me to create something about her meanderings.

I rationalised to them that I had brought them out to the waterfalls, hoping that surely, something out there might inspire them.

Horror and Drama co-told a story about a loner, sitting at a bench, writing in a spiral notebook. It was a long, passionate diatribe that turns out it could be a suicide note. Romance chimes in that it could work, add in some lost or spurned love. Then after death, the loner's ghost comes back to haunt everyone who goes there. Fantasy is quiet. She doesn't like this idea. She shifts in her seat, then begs us all to consider something else, something lighter. There isn't anything in the story that she can work with. Ghosts aren't her thing. She asks if there are faeries or pixies around the falls, trying to prevent people from jumping or falling. Instead, catching them mid-jump, taking them through to the world of the fae instead to experience a different life while they heal. Horror sighs, then asks Fantasy if there could be a darker element for them to work with. Fantasy agrees. Then she turns to Romance and Drama and says that their elements can also be a part of it.

Then, they all turn to look at me in expectation. They tell me that, surely I can do something with their ideas. Instead I drink my Raspberry and Lime Slurpee and listen to the water running over the waterfall. It's cold there, but I am not cold inside. I am warm, at peace. There are stories still to be told. I want to go and write them, but first, another walk.