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Rated: E · Short Story · Sci-fi · #579285
a woman alone in her creative state of being
The woman sat quietly waiting for the beasties to come, knowing that they would. Much to her delight, much to her dismay, the tiny trio soon emerged and began to scurry about the darkened room. Familiar with each, yet tormented still by their presence, she watched in amusement, and horror, as the three quickly darted around her in their strange fashion. She knew somehow that they were called 'gangligoyles' and that when they came she would, once again, be filled with an overwhelming ease of creativity and comfort. Oh, to write her wonderful stories with such speed and elegance, without effort. The joy and comfort it gave her was priceless, her lonely life so complete. But, still, she would be filled with doubts and fears, nonetheless. Perhaps everyone knew the little beasties but, for fear of insanity, refused to acknowledge their presence! Perhaps she would only become insane if they never came again! The very thought filled her with dread and loneliness. At least for now, they were here and she could write away another lonely night.
As the weary woman finished her evening's works, she had to bade goodnight to the tiny trio, and bade them home. One by one the beasties reluctantly climbed upon her shoulder and re-entered her head. Once again they were home.
© Copyright 2002 Jale DeCrittare (jale at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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