My Muse II

Conversations with My Muse

My Muse emerges from my head, and climbs out of it.  I give her a sweet look of satisfaction.  From the last time that I saw her, she is looking a lot more healthy.  In fact, every time that I have seen her she was been more and more healthier by the day.

She looks at me, casting that gaze upon me that I love so very much.  It is her own unique gaze.  The signature of her spell.  I am now fixed on her.  My eyes can’t leave her.  She has a look of longing.  A look of expectancy.  She wants something.  How do I know?  It is almost like her look is speaking to me.

“What do you want, my dear?”  I ask my darling muse.

My muse crosses her shoulders and drapes her hair in my face.  “I am hungry,” she said in a way that commanded immediate attention.  “When will you feed me?”

At this, I frowned.  I have given her plenty to eat!  What more does she want?  “I have given you plenty of stories to feast upon,” I told her.  “What about that latest project I am working on that is about Zachary Willowbrook?  It is over 30,000 words.  It’s quite a feast!”

My muse is unmoved.  Upon standing next to me, I notice that my muse was over twice my height.

My muse approaches me.  She begins her methods of arousal on me.  She brushes her hair against me and caresses my face.  “It is not enough,” she said in a seductive tone.  “I am starving.  You should know very well that the more I’m fed, the more I grow.  Healthy muses like me require a lot of stories and ideas in order to grow.”

I continue staring at her, deep in her spell.  Her arms are wrapped around me in tight embrace.  A sense of excitement fills me, but at the same time, a sudden feeling of dissatisfaction fills me.   Haven’t I given her all that she wanted?  Will she ever be satisfied?  “Isn’t that story enough for you?”  I ask her.  “You should’ve seen yourself three months ago.  You were malnourished and you looked horrible.”

My muse sighs, and looks at me with impatience.  Has she really forgotten?  Three months ago, she was a skeleton, weeping from her lack of nourishment.  She was a hideous looking corpse on the verge of death.  Had I not given her any more food, she would not be with me.  A sudden look of remembrance fills her face.  Then anger and resentment.  “You’re just going to neglect me again, like you did before!” She shouts.  “For several months, I cried out for food, and you didn’t hear me.  My voice was too weak to reach your ears.”

I lay my arm on both sides of my muse and comfort her.  “But then I fed you and nursed you back to health.  Is this the thanks you’re going to give me in return?  What about those daily treats?”

My muse shrugs her shoulders.  “Those are merely appetizers.  Even after having them, I am still hungry.  Not all of them taste good either.  Bitter, bland, sweet, they’re never the same….Why can’t give me some good food?”

Does she spite the food I give her?  “Those ‘appetizers’ you speak of were meals when you were struggling,” I argue.  “Why are you so ungrateful?  Remember.  Your health determines how well you are fed.  Now, return inside of me and I will give you a feast of the ages….”

My muse begins to smile again.  “Let’s begin with some good food.  How about those books that you checked out on creative writing?  Also, that story that you have written several years ago is getting bland.  And how about those other books that you got from your friend?”  My muse begins her methods of arousal on me once again.  She brushes her hair on my face and caresses my temples.  My muse is quite good at getting what she wants.  And with her methods of persuasion, she is usually successful.

Yes.  My darling muse is quite healthy.  Malnourished, she was half my size.  Now, the span of her hand almost covers my head.  “At the rate you’re growing, I’ll pretty soon be able to fit in the palm of your hands.”  I say to her.

My muse has no reply to this.  She just smiles, and rubs her stomach, due to her hunger pains.  Eager to be fed, she leaps up and dives inside my head.  Her body becomes a mist, and dissolves inside of me.  Before the mist dissolved, I heard the echo of her playful laughter.

And that is pretty much what my muse does from time to time.  When she leaves my head is unpredictable.  Sometimes, she leaves to tell me that she’s hungry and we have an exchange that is very much similar to this one.  At other times, she just wants to leave to whisper words of endearment into my ear.  She often does this at night, when I”m asleep.  And sometimes, she just leaves to share her insecurities and concerns with me.  I listen to all she has to say, no matter what it is.

Whenever she leaves, I know that my darling siren is full of surprises.  She is the essence of creativity and I continue to feed her on a daily basis.  When will her next visit be? Only time will tell….

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©2012  K. L. Walker