Short, sweet or scary

The Poet and The Premonition

What makes a poet? Is it his search for truths in living words, his longing to take control over his subconscious drivel? His drive to be understood, to no longer be alone in his quest for life?

Martin was contemplating his very existence when opening the email in his mailbox that morning. He had been at it the whole night and was still drowsy after as little as three hours of sleep.

The wife and kids were still in bed, and the house was quiet, serene in the morning light.

Suddenly he felt this strange feeling again he could not shake off. Something was about to happen; he was very sure of it. A premonition that had pestered him before the last few days.

And then: there it was...out of the blue, this note from a stranger who had found his work on the internet and wanted to comment on it, showering him with platitudes on the impact of his words.

Although he was an experienced writer with some success in what he was doing, his ego felt acknowledged immediately; it was so good to be recognized.

He eagerly opened the attached photo.

One picture of a gorgeous woman with long brown hair and green eyes was staring at his face.

His heart made a jump.

The eyes were mesmerizing and stared down his very soul. The emptiness he had felt for so long was directly filled with anticipation in a sudden outburst of joy.

What a beautiful creature, not from this earth.

His shy, elusive Muse went in overdrive, and for the next hour, he was busy producing one poem after another. The stream of consciousness seemed limitless. Sweat was emerging on his forehead; his trembling hands did the work typing fast and then faster.

It was uncanny; it was magical!

Time went passing by in a rush of flowing words. Nothing was important as long as he could capture this flow, opening his heart and soul to his Muse, who was dancing and whirling with the beautiful woman with the haunting eyes.

He felt the two's interaction; it was almost a physical process of two beings inside his mind. One chasing the other, one jumping over the other inside his heart, liver, and lungs. It was a rush he never experienced before, an explosion of thought, aches from dreams long gone, and a sensation of limitless freedom.

This was it! This was what he had been waiting for his whole life.

A python of loving arms wrapped around his throat. In a gaze of wonderment, he closed his eyes, opened them again, and looked at the women once more.

Her eyes lit up, her smile hypnotizingly honest.

When his heart stopped beating, he never knew what hit him!

The computer turned black, leaving the poet's body motionless in his chair.

Word count: 477