"Krispy Kremes and a Muse" by Kelsey Sophia

            It should’ve been a beautiful apartment, with its old wooden doors and the magnificent views of Lake Shore Drive.  Even the most holy scent of all, Krispy Kremes, drifted out of the windows to mingle with the scent of fresh rain.  It should have been beautiful.

            But instead the house was plagued by a demonic-type presence.  A psychic “GET OUT!” sign, commonly known as writer’s block.  So when innocent pedestrians, or curious neighbors passed within twenty feet of Georgia’s apartment, the overwhelmingly strong linebacker called Second Hand Frustration, immediately tackled them.

            And Frustration itself tackled Georgia like the entire Chicago Bears football team.  One two hundred pound player at a time.  In a never-ending cycle.

            But Georgia took it like the best of writers did; by screaming at the top of her lungs and desperately trying to throw her computer out of the window. 

            If it only it would fit.

            “Having issues already?” asked Georgia’s voice in her ear.  Only it wasn’t really Georgia’s voice, this voice was meaner, harder, and stronger.

                                       “Finally she comes!” sighed Georgia.  “I tried every way I knew how to call you.  I even bought Krispy Kremes!”

            “Well, the screaming certainly caught my attention.  Although, it was extremely annoying.”  Georgia’s muse stepped out of thin air.

            The entity shared all of Georgia’s features, from her curly purple hair right down to her golden back molar.  Only the Muse carried everything off with a sense of pride Georgia would never feel.  It emulated from the Muse with the way she strutted around in her giant top hat and Ringmaster’s jacket.

            Come to think of it, that was probably what Georgia hated the most about the Muse, the constant reminder that she was not in control of her own life, the Muse was.  One minute Georgia could be bombarded with ideas, and whenever the Muse got bored and left Georgia was hung out to dry.

            Inspiration was a bitch.

            “Let’s see how horribly you screwed up this time.” Mused the Muse.  She sat in the old leather computer chair and started to read the glowing screen. “Hmmm. Oh no, tell me you DID NOT spend three entire paragraphs on a sunset!” she cried in horror.

            “ What’s wrong with that?  It’s symbolism!” Georgia snapped back.

            “Because it’s too cliché.  Don’t you think I¾you’re a better writer than to rely on such an over used symbol?” The Muse looked at Georgia sweetly (for once) and ruffled the writer’s purple curls.

            “Whatever” mumbled Georgia, and stuffed a glazed doughnut in her mouth.  The Muse watched her chew for a minute and then turned back to the computer.  Not soon after the Muse gasped in horror.

            “No! No, no, no!” cried the Muse, spinning to look at Georgia. “Please tell me you DID NOT write a love scene!”

            “Well¾”

            “This has gotten totally out of hand.  I’m actually going to have to go in there in there myself!”  With that the Muse took the oversized top hat off her head and set it down in the middle of the apartment.  Then, she scooped up both her whip and the half eaten box of donuts, and stepped into the hat.

            Georgia, on the other hand, hesitated at the rim, she never liked the vertigo she got from stepping into her mind. 

            “Are you coming?” cried the Muse from the blackness inside the top hat.

            “Yeah.” Moaned Georgia, and tentatively hopped into the hat. 

            She immediately went spiraling. 

            “Like always” mumbled the Muse, when Georgia finally fell on the ground.  The Muse stomped off without waiting for Georgia to get off of her face. 

            On her first visit inside of her mind, Georgia learned that brain scientist actually knew nothing about the brain.  In fact, no person’s brain is even similar, and there were little people who controlled things like storing memories, and controlling her dreams. 

Georgia’s mind took form as a circus in the middle of a tiny woods.  From where she was standing, a massive yellow and red striped tent was visible.  This tent was the most important, and dangerous, part of Georgia’s mind; it held all of her creativity.  The Big Top, as the little people in her mind referred to it, was run by the Muse.  And one wrong turn inside would lead you to a fiery pit of death and despair.  This pit was of course the idea of the Muse, as a sort of “safety system”.  Georgia knew it was really for the Muse’s enjoyment.

            With a sigh, the writer headed off to the Big Top.  Luckily, Georgia visited her mind at a time when the vendor selling memories was on a break.  She usually got suckered into buying the movie remake of her first kiss.

            Slowly, she opened the curtain, and entered the tent.  She looked up to the stage and saw her two favorite male characters in frilly tutus, on top of the tight rope.

            “I decide comedy would be the best remedy” called the Muse from the middle of the rope.

            “Yeah! Great idea!” cried Georgia, and took a seat on the bleachers.  Out of thin air pen and paper appeared in her hand.

            “Ready?” asked the Muse.  And then her whip cracked the air, and Georgia finally got an idea.