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11th Muse

The cursor on the screen blinked steadily, waiting for the architect to construct his next piece of work.

By anthony farinaPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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11th Muse

The cursor on the screen blinked steadily, waiting for the architect to construct his next piece of work. To have words produced in some order, in a form that would give the blank word document company.

No words came.

The cursor continued to blink, starring right back at him. Ten minutes past and the cursor waited patiently to move to its next space, so it could reach the goal of going on to another line, and finally a new page.

Nothing happened.

The man behind the computer sat there, staring back at the cursor, hoping with all of his might that words would appear before his eyes, waiting, and achieving no desired result. A woman was on a commercial in the background advertising some new sound system that could change your life for the better. It wasn’t the sound system that got Michael’s attention; it was certain characteristics of the woman herself. She in a way resembled the girl of his dreams. Serving as the spark that lead to an explosion, his thoughts flowed on paper and he wrote.

“Wherever you are I want you to know that I am going to start writing about you now. I’m going to keep changing my life and disappear from here for a time. Eventually, I will come back and the story will be written. You have long dark hair, gorgeous figure; your smile beckons my heart to pound faster while I mimic your expression. Your eyes are deep, full of passion and the hope that I have been trying to find for years. Your ears are cute and pointy. Your check bones arc at a smooth angle, giving your face its perfect curvature. I have had this feeling that you were out there for the longest time, knowing that I was not fully satisfied with others I have dated.

Just this week I came across three women at three different places that bore the same features as you. All three made casual conversation with me and as we parted, they left me with a smile. The smile, the same smile you have and one day I will be able to see in person. Oh, the sweet fruitful smile on your face, which could bring light to the darkest corners of existence.

Just the mere thought of you inspires me to write and keep on writing until the day that I will find you. Yet you have no name, so what am I to call you? All I know is what I feel and I feel that you are alive, somewhere. You are my muse. After living such a lonely life, dating woman after woman only to end up with the same fate, I didn’t lose hope. I continued seeking you out with each failed relationship. I knew that if one relationship didn’t work, it meant I was one step closer to finding you, wherever you are.

And now I spend my weekend nights, doing the job I love most but not having anyone to really share it with. It was once said that happiness is best shared. If you have happiness, or material things or puppies or cake or whatever, there is no point in really having it if there is no one to share it with. Christians believe in this place called Hell. I think the worst kind of hell would be having every material thing at your disposal, but no one around to enjoy it. After all, what would be the point?

I am growing older and you are still out there. If the breaths we take number our lives, then why must fate keep us from each other. Every day that passes means one more day less that I get to share with you and all of the beauty I am surrounding myself with.

What will I say when I first meet you if our souls do not recognize each other? What is the first step I should take when I know without a doubt that you are right in front of me? Confidence only goes so far after a lifetime of being rejected so you need to help me. You need to find the words on these pages and give me a sign.”

Michael sat back, taking a deep breath followed by a sip of water. Neither fame nor success of this work weighed on his mind. Rather it was the raw emotion he just transferred from his heart and onto the page. Looking out his window, he caught a glance of a couple walking a Siberian husky. The dog pulled the woman and the man was laughing at her. Michael cracked a smile on his face and tried to imagine what it would be like to have just one moment of simple, peaceful joy with the woman of his dreams.

In reality, all Michael had was whatever his imagination would allow him to view at that given moment in time. But to Michael it was more than just an imagination; to him, this woman he sought was his reality. To him, he knew somewhere else that she was his reality as well. They just had to connect before this life expires. Michael continued to write.

“Over the past two weeks, I have run into parts of you a number of times. First, there was the supermarket. I was in the checkout line buying a toy for my dog and a woman who had some of your features was behind me. When I mentioned to the cashier what kind of dog I had, the woman spoke up and told me about hers. She was friendly, had black hair, and a warm smile. I left the store bidding her a good evening and in return, she left me with a sign of hope that you are alive and out there somewhere.

The next woman was at a dog park, she spoke with the same kindness as the previous woman but this time I got her name; it was Jessica. Another was at the gas station, warm smile, long dark hair, but she only looked at me, her eyes beckoning me to come over and talk with her. I hesitated and the moment passed. I drove back home carrying the same warm smile the women of these past two weeks had been blessing me with. I am not one to count coincidences but, to see so many similarities in these situations in a short time makes one pay attention to the Gods a little closer.

If you’re really out there, I’ll find you. If I don’t, then it could be considered the biggest failure of my entire life. The humor in the test is that the examiner never told me how much time I have, or if he is grading on a curve. It’s either you win or you don’t. Then what? You move on to your next life and I try to find you there? I don’t think so. I think I was given a special gift in this life and that gift serves as a sort of internal navigation system, telling me you're alive. But it tells me little more. Right now the closest connection I have to you is the word processor that was blank hours ago.”

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