Too Much of
a Good Thing
©2005 Kitnoki -- all rights reserved
Scribbler sat, and began to write. She didn't really have any ideas on what to write, but rather just enjoyed the experience, ideas flowing from mind, to hand, to pencil, to paper, and from there, out into the world around her. Tent pegs sprouted into trees, which spread into a forest. Birds came into existence in all sorts of hues; bright purples melded with shimmering emerald bellies. Daring reds, and rich blues, flitted amongst the new trees. She smiled as she wrote, and something lumbered off behind the trees, shaking the ground. Small things scurried into leaf litter that hadn't been there a moment before, just in time for it to shift to sand, and the trees to dunes and grass. An ocean wave rolled up to her feet reverently, and withdrew, as a shining fish leaped free. Then the sea froze, the landscape becoming white with snow. A creature, looking something like a furred worm, lifted its tiny head and gave a cry, before again seeking shelter in its snowy abode.
Scribbler sat and wrote, creating worlds. She scarcely noticed the changes around her, only on the page. Tisi watched with increasing worry as Scribbler poured words onto paper, not looking up for hours upon end. Writing. Writing. Writing. The sun set. Two others rose, one a gentle red, the other an intense white. Then these settled into the horizon, replaced by a plethora of moons, hanging in the sky like baubles. Then the moons vanished. In their place was a dance of stars no one had ever seen before. Pure imagination. All culminating in a gorgeous swirl, which faded as an enormous green sun signaled the beginning of yet another day.
Still Scribbler did not look up.
Tisi frowned. "Um, dear... don't you have a quest to be on..?" Scribbler took no notice as the snow became a grassland, mountains in the far off horizon. Suddenly, Tisi grinned and whispered something in Scribbler's ear. The mortal's eyes went wide, and her pencil flew across the page. In the distance, a plume of smoke rose over one of the mountains. Scribbler wrote on, as beasts of all kinds began to flock across the grasslands, all heading in the same direction, away from the mountain. A far-off screech echoed, as the smoke ceased for a moment, something lifting from it and swooping out across the reddened sky.
By now most of the animals were gone. On the plain remained only two figures: A girl writing, and a muse doubting her own idea. It was closer now; Tisi could hear the wing beats as the creature neared them. Scribbler frowned as she could feel it approach. She finally looked up as the thing swooped, bellowing in triumph. She screamed and rolled out of the way, the dragon's talons raking the ground. Dumbfounded, Scribbler looked at Tisi.
"Don't just sit there, girl! Run!" And with that they were off, racing across the grass, the dragon catching up to them easily until suddenly Scribbler ran smack into the red convertable.
Scribbler looked around in amazement. The sky was blue again, and there was no sign of the dragon. "What the hell just happened?"
Tisi tapped the side of her head a few times. "Quiet, you! Why couldn't I have suggested a mute dragon? Dear, you got lost in your writing. Yes, writing is good, but you can't live in it full time."
"Lost in my -- wait -- the dragon was your idea? You almost got us killed!"
The muse smiled. "I had to wake you up somehow, dear, and didn't we made it out OK? But now," she said as she checked her wrist, "it really is time you got on with your quest."