Rest Salubrious

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

I stretched out, hand reaching languidly for the sun. I wanted to pluck the bright golden ball from the sea of blue and cup it in my hands. Having just woken up, for a moment I was a child again. And in that in-between of dream and wakefulness, reality seemed fluid and undefined. If I tried hard enough I could take the sun and make it mine. Warmth pressed along my thigh and up my hip and over over my breast, where the sun's hot gaze had heated my clothes. Even atop a bed of cool grass, I felt a shade too warm. Almost as soon as I thought it, a breeze picked up splashing my hair across my face. I brushed it away and some strands danced out of my fingers like streamers. Some insects buzzed out of sight and did not bother me.

My father's voice brought me fully awake. “Eve? Where are you?”

I sat up and climbed to my feet before answering. Dusting off clinging blades of grass, I said, "Over here, cher papa."

He stood on the crest of the hill, an imposing figure tall and broad. "There's much work to be done."


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Napping on the job. I wonder what her father thinks.

  • #2798 Posted 5 years ago
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  • Published 5 years ago.
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