There was a time when I wrote something every day. Sometimes a short story, often a poem, but always something. Normally, in my head, I paint a picture and the words bring it to life. Just lately though, I seem to have ground to a halt; my daily word-spinning now a distant memory. My muse it appears has wandered off and left me speechless! I even wrote a poem about my muse once; how ungrateful she is. I’m joking of course. To think that some outside force can influence the way you express your thoughts and ideas is preposterous. It is however a very useful excuse when your imagination dries up!
I wrote the above about an hour ago, sorry for the interruption. I thought I heard someone calling my name. The voice was faint, distant, and almost unreal. I went over to my window; I live opposite a park, and there are always people wandering around. I often stand and watch people feeding the ducks, kids running about and youngsters kicking a ball around scoring goals and cheering in triumph. But when I looked out a moment ago, the park was strangely empty. The water in the lake was still and mirror like. Where were the swans and the ever- swooping sea gulls? The trees and bushes were totally still. No movement, no sound, no sign of life. And then, again, in the distance I heard someone call my name. It was more of a whisper than a shout. There was not a soul in sight.
“Go back to your keyboard” the eerie voice hissed. “Go back, and empty your mind. Relax your hands and let me help you find your way back”.
I won’t deny it; I’d had a couple of drinks over lunch and one or two more when I got home. My immediate thought was to grab a caffeine fix, so I went straight to the kitchen to make a strong cup of coffee. Then I heard the voice again, still distant but a little closer than before. “Come back to your keyboard” it said. “I’m waiting for you”. With that I knocked the cup over and steaming coffee swirled around my feet. I suddenly felt as if I was losing control. Outside I could once again hear the sound of laughter. The ducks were quacking and the breeze was rustling the branches of the trees. I glanced out and the park was it's usual bustling self. I felt myself being drawn towards my desk.
You are going to think I’m crazy, but I promise you I have no recollection of writing any of that nonsense. But I have to admit that for the first time in ages I actually have a few ideas swimming around in my head. But before I start writing them down I need to see to the kitchen floor which right now must be swimming in spilled coffee! Oh, that’s strange. There is no spilled coffee. I think I need another drink!