Dark muses

Suffering from writer's block is hard, getting your inspiration back might be even harder.

 

I stared at the blank computer screen. It stared back at me, unblinking, mocking. It had been doing that for a long time now. I raked my hands through my hair and growled with frustration. I had to write, I needed to write, but the words just wouldn't come to me. I had a deadline looming over me, my editor and my publisher both breathing down my neck, and I couldn't produce a single word. I just wanted to smash my laptop to bits.

“How's it going, babe? Getting any work done?” Oh, I hated being called babe! It just sounded like I was a stupid teenager in love. Still, I knew Nate was only trying to cheer me up. I looked up at him. Honestly, he was gorgeous, no denying that. Chiseled body from way too much workout, a face that was all sharp angles and planes. His eyes were a hazel that was more green than brown, and his thin lips made him look slightly cruel. The universe had a great sense of irony, since Nate was just like an overgrown puppy. It was impossible to dislike him. I knew he wanted me to do more than like him, but I refused to say those three important words if I didn't really mean them.

I wasn't even sure why he so badly wanted me to love him. I was a moderately successful writer, but other than that I didn't have much to brag about. I was ten years older than him, and it showed. Lines were beginning to show on my face. I had found a few gray strands in my auburn hair, and I was no way near as toned and supple as I had once been. Working a sedentary work wasn't really helping my cause either. Maybe I really should get off my a*s and come with Nate to the gym. At least I would be an object of envy for snaring fresh meat.

I pushed my dark thoughts out of my head, or tried to. “I don't get it! I've never suffered writer's block before, but I can't produce one lousy sentence now. I've got no inspiration whatsoever.” I knew I sounded defeated, hopeless. Nate leaned down and gave me a hug.

“Can't I be your inspiration?” I laughed at him and gave him a playful pat on the a*s.

“Unless I want to try writing erotica, no you can't. But thanks anyway, honey.” He kissed me lightly and waved at me.

“I'm off to the gym. Sure you don't want to come?” I was just about to decline when I remembered my earlier train of thought.

“Hell, why not? It's not like my dark muses will hit me with an inspirational stick here. Let me get some stuff and we're out of here.” His smile was wide and genuine, and I realized how big a b***h I had been towards him lately. It was time to make amends.

It was a beautiful day. The sun had just burned away the remnants of the morning's fog; it promised to become a really hot summer day. In fact I worried I'd be sweating before I'd even begun working out. Nate looked perfect. If it wasn't for the fact that I dated him I'd probably resent him. As we stepped into the dusk of the gym I seriously regretted going. I should have just stayed home. I gave Nate a quick kiss and headed for the womens' locker room. I looked myself over in the mirror as I changed. I really needed to do this. If I wanted Nate to stay with me I needed to shape up. After all, if I couldn't really write I would have nothing going for me. Maybe I could at least look a bit better.

“All I need is some fricking inspiration. Who'd I have to kill to get some?” A mocking laugh echoed through the room and I spun around. A flush crept up my face when I realized I hadn't been alone. A woman stood against a row of lockers, studying me.

“Talking to yourself is the first step of insanity, you know that?”

“Then I've been insane forever.” I looked her over. She was gorgeous from head to foot. Her long, black hair fell in a glistening cascade down her back, her olive skin was perfect and her dark eyes glittered with thinly veiled amusement. Her perfect figure was clad in tight spandex which showed off her every curve. I was aware of my own flabby body covered by sweats, and suddenly I just wanted to grab Nate and get out of there. He'd leave me for her in a heartbeat. Just like she'd seen my insecurity she shrugged.

“It works for some, I guess. Gods know he seems to care for you. Why, I can't really say.” My breath stuttered in my throat as a swell of rage rose in me.

“Who the hell are you to talk to me like that? It's not like I've ever met you before!” She gave another lilting laugh.

“Oh, honey, you've met me before. You just weren't aware of me then. Anyway, you don't need to kill anyone to get some inspiration.” For a second I thought she emphasized the “you” slightly, but I couldn't swear on it. “You do know you can find inspiration everywhere. The question is just what you're willing to sacrifice.”

I gave a crooked smile of my own. “Right now I'm willing to sacrifice everything. Which probably proves my insanity, by the way, if talking to a complete stranger about this didn't. Anyway, nice talking to you, I guess.” I gave a small wave and left. She waved back.

“We'll meet again, don't worry.” For some reason her comment chilled me.

I got out to see Nate finish warming up on the treadmill. I decided to follow his example. He smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Get warmed up, then I'll help you with the equipment.” I smiled back, feeling my heart swell just a little. Maybe he was a real keeper. After all he put up with me, grumpiness and all. I got on the treadmill and started lumbering. After five minutes I was panting and sweat stung my eyes. I was horribly out of shape. I looked over at Nate. He was in some sort of torture device, upper body glistening with sweat as he pressed the weights. It looked so easy when he did it.

“He is gorgeous. You're lucky to have him.” I glanced over at her, running effortlessly next to me. Once again I felt a stab of envy, but it was tempered by discomfort.

“Why are you following me?” She laughed again.

“Oh, don't worry! I'll soon be out of your hair. I'm practically done here; just one small thing left to do.” She got off the machine and walked back to the locker rooms. On the way there she passed Nate. He looked up at her and gave his quick grin. She smiled back, and continued on unconcernedly as the machine Nate used seized up and all the weights fell down on his bare chest. He gave a strangled cry, limbs flailing as he tried to get away from under the crushing grip of them. I froze for an instant before throwing myself off the treadmill to try and help him. When I reached his side his breath was a rasping gurgle in his throat. With the help of one of the staff, who'd been alerted by my screams, I managed to free Nate. Flecks of blood speckled his lips as he labored for breath.

“Call an ambulance! Don't just f*****g stand there!” My voice was cracked, hysterical, and I was aware of tears streaming down my face. The employee ran to dial 911 as I held Nate's hand, pleading for him to stay with me, to not die. She passed me again as I heard the sound of sirens, her dark eyes glittering cruelly.

“You said you'd sacrifice everything. You won't have any trouble finding inspiration for your writing anymore.” She gave another smile. I looked at her; my eyes widened as I took in the image of her in the mirror. Her body was dressed in a loose white robe, tied with a golden ribbon under her breasts. In her hand she held a mask, the face of it set in an expression of sadness. She gave a mocking bow before slipping away.

By the time the ambulance reached the gym Nate was gone. His chest had been crushed, his lungs punctured by his ribs. I held his hand and cried as his last breath rattled out of his body. At the hospital they told me nothing could have been done to save him. I could have done nothing. I know better. I looked her up on the Net. Her name's Melpomene. She's been around for a long time. She really is the dark muse, the muse of tragedy and tragic writing. I told her I'd sacrifice everything for inspiration. But I'd never meant it literally; I never meant to sacrifice Nate.