Help from the Muse
I'm just this guy, you know?
To expand on that, I am also the following...
- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)
- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch
- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes
- Always too hard on myself
He lifted his head, unscrewed the top of the whiskey and took a big swig of it, holding it in his mouth for a moment to savor the taste that only good whiskey can provide before swallowing it in an attempt to make the girl disappear.
"I'm not going anywhere" she said, removing herself from his desk and placing herself over his shoulder now. "I'm here to stay."
"You're here to mess with me. Mess with my heart." he retorted.
She took a moment before answering him. The moment burned its way into his soul like her silences had so many times before.
"I am here to help you."
"Help me with what?"
"I don't know, writing? Your insistence on yearning for me in your subconscious? The whole drinking to get into the writing zone? Which, I know I should be the last person to tell you how to manage your vices but to be fair I'm not REALLY her, I'm your mind's manifestation of her so my morals are a little higher set."
He took another swig, though this time he did not savor the taste. It was a utilitarian drink.
Comments (1 so far!)
"...a utilitarian drink." That's a nice turn of phrase. :)
- #2583 Posted 5 years ago
Inspired by (sequel to):
A wholly imaginary girl appeared at the end of his desk as he typed. His mind immediately jumped to …A Lingering Muse
- Published 5 years ago.
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