Averting My Eyes, I Ascend

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

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

When the cliffs came into sight, I found that I wasn't ready to see them. Their vast dominance of the sky, those dizzying heights, even from this far away, toyed with my body's perception of which way was up. The sensation that I was about to fall sideways crept up on me and I tore my eyes away from those awful summits to find something more sane to focus on. I settled on the gravelly debris on the floor boards. The tiny rock fragments themselves were, as if given life by the quaking motion of the cart, shivering in fearful anticipation. I recognize that most rocks do not shiver on their own for any reason and that this sight was a product of a loose imagination. My mind had grown weak and I was given to panic at mundane occurrences like dark shadows moving beneath a closed door or the sounds of soft humming.

Such menacing gazes must be an affront to God, unnatural in their form, too chaotic to be the work of any man. Yet these devilish reaches were the key to escape, housing the last refuge for me and mine.


No prequels yet. Why not write one?

« Write a prequel


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

Write a sequel »

Comments (0 so far!)