The Writer and His MuseThe Writer lay quietly in his bed. Rest was hard to come by. Vivid images filled his mind, ideas which blinked and twirled in the darkness before fading away, never to be seen again. As always, in the beginning he could control them, but they spiraled out of his grasp and took on lives of their own. He no longer had any say. They simply went where they intended and created their own paths. Slowly he drifted off amidst the stories being told around him. The images slowed, sleep was coming. Soon he was unconscious.The Writer and His Muse7 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
A sharp kick to the stomach woke him up. He grunted and clutched his gut.
“Come on, come on, get up. It is time.”
The Writer looked up to see Muse standing over him. “Don’t make me kick you again! I said it’s time to write.”
“What? I don’t want to write now! Its 3 in the morning!”
“As if you have any say. You know how this works slave. I won’t let you sleep until you obey me. Now get up!” Muse raised his f