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|Ever wonder what happens when you get writer's block? This is just a cute story that popped into my head.||
Denise Faelen closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Nothing was coming. The blank computer screen had been in front of her for ages, and she couldn’t bring herself to write a word. For a moment, she had felt the beginning push of an idea, but when she had brought her hands to the keyboard, the muse had slipped away, leaving her empty once again.
“This job sucks.” The writer muttered to herself, pushing her chair back and moving to stand. She had a deadline and wouldn’t be able to make it at this rate, which would culminate in yet another round of begging for extensions. Maybe some fresh air would help. A walk around the block (for the fifteenth time) might unlock her brain. Tossing another glare of frustration at her computer, she turned and made her way out of her office and towards the front door. In another moment, the slam of the door rattled throughout the empty apartment, waking up the cat that had been, until now, curled up on her bed.
Within two minutes, two tiny figures had shimmered into existence. One sat daintily on the edge of the desk, examining her nails, as the other walked around the computer keyboard, reaching up and grabbing what looked like shimmering strands of silk, and stuffing them into his pockets. “Come on, Aina. You need to help me with this. Otherwise, we won’t be doing our jobs.” His dark blue wings flapped for a moment, lifting him up to pull another string from the air. “If we don’t get this done, we are in trouble.”
Aina stopped looking at her nails, and stood up, letting out a put-upon sigh. Her own wings, light green with gold tint, folded against her back in a stubborn effort. “Miron, we’ve been doing this” She waved her hand in avid disgust, “place for ages. Can’t we move on? I’m bored here.”
“No, we can’t move on yet. The contract to clean up this place is for 15 moons. If her muse hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be here right now.” Miron hopped onto one of the keys of the computer, crouching down and reaching tiny hands between the keys. “Aina, come help me.” He grunted a few times, twisting a long sparkling thread between his fingers, as he attempted to pull it completely out. The other tiny fairy made her way over to the opposite key, standing on the H, and she took hold of the idea with both tiny hands.
“You know, this is a dumb job. We could have been inspiring muses, having children chase us, dancing through the woods, or even throwing dust on two lovers, but noooooooo. We. Have. To. Be. The. Blockers.” She said, straining between words.
Miron stopped, still crouched slightly, and wiped his hands on his legs. “We couldn’t be the muse inspirations because there are way too many of them as it is. Why do you think this job is open? A muse gets too carried away and just drops all sorts of litter,” He motioned to the strands that were floating in the air, and the one sparkled one that lay on the computer, “all over the place. Some one has to clean it up.”
She examined the twisted strand she had in her fingers, still caught beneath the keyboard somewhere itself. “So? What can it hurt? Muses drop the idea of an idea, Miron. If they drop too much, let people use it!”
“You can’t be that stupid. Too many of these land on a human and you get too much inspiration. Too much inspiration leads to a glut and half-completed works of art. You don’t want that. We don’t want that. Leave just a little, not enough, or none for a time and you have the human wanting. When they get it, they will do their best. And the best keeps us going. Badly done art doesn’t help our cause you know. Besides, it’s good money.”
She sighed and looked up at him once more, raising her eyebrows at him. “You make us sound like prissy, stuck up creatures.” Her voice had a challenge in it, as she watched her brother and coworker.
“If the shoe fits we should wear it. Let’s get this last one and get out of here. We’ve got seven more holdings to go to after this one. Two of them in another plane.” Miron stooped down again, taking the top part of the strand. “Ready?” He asked, before counting down. “3, 2, 1…pull!” With that, he yanked back, the thread coming out of the computer and sending Miron one direction, and Aina the other. She fell back onto the keyboard, landing on her back.
“Hey, I’m fragile!” Aina called irritatedly to her brother. She looked up to see him struggle to maintain his balance on the edge of the desk before unceremoniously tripping over the corner and falling off. She shook her head in disgust. Men couldn’t do anything right. Now they’d have to recollect all the strands from the start.
Aina brought herself to a stand, and flapped her wings to lift up off of the computer and towards the edge of the desk. Miron hadn’t come back up yet. Probably waiting down there, drowning in his bruised ego. He knew she’d never let him live it down. “Miron?” She called. Still nothing.
The little fairy crossed her arms, and frowned, lips forming into a pout. Just like him to play games when he knew she didn’t want to be here today. Well. She’d give him the what for. Her mind made up, she jumped over the desk edge to float down to him…
…And found herself staring into the face of a large, furry, creature that had one dark blue wing at the edge of its mouth. With a little yelp, she attempted to get back up on the desk, but to no avail. The cat batted her back down with one paw, and she landed on the floor, curling up into a ball. “This jobs sucks.”
“Mrrrowr?” The animal questioned, before reaching out to bat her again. Toys were such fun! Around the cat, unseen by any human eyes strands of silver and glittering threads were rising back up into the air, and settling about the apartment in different places.
Half an hour later, Denise walked back into the apartment. She stood for a moment; taking her dark hair out of the ponytail she had put it in, and took a breath. Now she was ready to tackle the computer and try to pound out a few pages. She still wasn’t sure what she’d write, however.
As she worked her way over to the computer room, she saw her gray cat sitting in the corner, munching on what looked to be the remnants of a bug. Pausing for a brief moment, she heard the cat purring contentedly. “Only my cat would purr at eating a bug.” She commented to herself, amused at the sight.
Pulling out her chair and settling her body into it, the woman smiled as an idea came to her. She rested her hands on the keyboard, and started to type.
“5310, 5311, 5312! Here I am.” The man let himself come to the ground, and fold his brown wings to his back. He wouldn’t want to look like he hadn’t dressed up to try and get a job out in other worlds. He had to look his best to see the world of the humans. This place was the premiere agency for species interactions and he had the ad out in his palm.
Blocker of muses
Don’t let overeager muses ruin us! See all the realms!
Great pay and great hours!
Under the main ad, written in very tiny print, was the addendum, “Watch for cats.”
|The Ticket||Eye of the Beholder|