the Center of a Muse
©2005 Kitnoki -- all rights reserved
After the canyon, the road was surprisingly smooth. Scribbler progressed along it quickly, the world now the bright green of spring around her. It felt delightful as well, not the cold of the grey lands, nor the scorching heat of the desert. Just right. Off to one side of the road, far in the distance, stood a small house, just the sort of thing one might see in any newly-constructed subdivision, with a certain red convertible gleaming in its driveway. Under these conditions it seemed only minutes before she arrived, and noticed Tisi standing out next to the car.
"It's about time you got here. What took you so long, kid? Nice flat roads in these parts."
"Yeah, well, a ride wouldn't have hurt." Scribbler replied, but not in anger. She was feeling too good to be angry. It was lovely out here.
Tisi smiled. "I know it's nice out, but no slacking off. We've got work to do here!"
"Work?" Scribbler inquired.
"Yes, work. You're here for inspiration, aren't you?
"Yeah, of course, but..."
"'But' me no 'but's, dear. Come on in!" Scribbler headed for the house.
"No... not in there." Tisi smiled and tapped her head. "In here."
Scribbler blinked in confusion. A moment later she was not in a suburban front yard in spring, but an organic purple cave, with red lights arcing along the contours here and there. Tisi of course was nowhere to be seen. What was to be seen, aside from the purple and red walls was what appeared to be small campsite off to one side with several tents, and girls buzzing around them. She was quite close when she made out what they were doing. They moved from place to place, writing in small journals here and there, and as they wrote, things appeared. Tent stakes -- a fire ring -- a grill -- even the licks of flame themselves, as each girl in turn wrote them into existence in her small journal. What really surprised Scribbler was that they all more or less looked like Tisi, though each had minor variations... the one looking over the fire was gaining a glow as she wrote. Another had wood grain tracing up her fingers as she created stakes. More tents appeared as she watched.
They were creating a world around them with words, putting part of themselves into each creation, and in return, granted a part of it back.
She approached one. "Hello?"
The Tisi looked up. "Ah -- there you are! Glad to see you made it! Welcome to my head!" She smiled, and offered Scribbler her journal and pen. Scribbler blinked, and cautiously accepted the small book.
"Thanks, but... what am I supposed to do with this?"
"Why, create, silly!" said the Muse, looking patiently at Scribbler.
"Okay, but what am I supposed to create? More tents?"
"No, dear. Except if you want to -- in which case, feel free!"
Scribbler pondered this. "So, what you're saying is, I can create anything I want..?"
"By George, I think she's getting it! Anything, dear. Does the phrase 'blank check' ring any bells?"
"Anything," the Tisi confirmed, still smiling. "But be warned: It can be addictive."
Now Scribbler smiled... and began to write.