Wednesday, March 7, 2012

injaynesworld it's "All Too Familiar..."

The table is piled high with books, newspapers, mail, and a half-eaten sandwich from days gone by.   From beneath the rubble something stirs, causing an unopened phone bill to float to the floor.  A tiny hand appears, no bigger than a postage stamp.  Then another, as Celeste, disheveled and dazed, slowly crawls from beneath the rubble, pulling a Post-It from her tangled hair.  She rises to her feet, steadies herself against a cup and looks around in disgust.   How long had she been under there this time?       

“Writers!” she grumbled.  “I’m a muse, not a magician.”
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