TITLE: The Muse By Scott Thomas 01/18/07 |
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“When are you gonna be done Daddy?” little Cindy asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Soon. I just need to work on this story a little more.” Tom knew though that was a lie. He didn't have the foggiest idea of when he'd finish. He tried to hide his worries from his precious six-year old.
“You promised you'd take me to the store to get that book and read it to me.”
“I know, I know. Just give me a few more minutes.”
“Ok.” Her shoulders slumped as she turned to walk away.
Seeing her like that drove a pang of guilt through Tom. He had disappointed her way too many times. He was determined to not let that happen again.
Tom sunk his head into his hands. How am I going to meet that deadline though? I don't have a clue how to start this story.
More guilt pangs struck. I should never have left my old job to pursue this foolish notion of becoming a writer. We were living comfortably and could afford things.
He reminded himself though of the constant traveling and late nights at the office. Becoming a writer was supposed to give me more time at home! But it wasn't working out that way. Instead he just locked himself away in his office struggling to get every word out.
Tom turned to his computer. The blank page stared back at him, mocking him, “Go ahead, write something! What are you waiting for?” it taunted him.
My muse, Tom thought.
“Ha! You don't have a muse!”
I don't believe that. I can't believe that. Tom rested his elbows on the desk, covering his face with his hands, and pondered if that were true. Within him, self-doubt seemed to ebb and flow as if it were some dark, unfathomable tide.
The cursor on the bright computer screen continued to blink, silently laughing. Tom got up from his chair and paced the floor of his small office, stepping around the clutter that littered the floor. With every step he felt himself slipping further into his private sea of despair. The room was a mess, cluttered with bills, old books lying around.
Tom's eyes fell upon the dusty Bible lying in the corner. He always considered himself a Christian, went to church every Sunday, didn't smoke, or drink. Yet he didn't feel all that close to God.
Tom reached down and picked it up. If ever there was I time I needed help, this is it. He flipped his Bible open and began reading. “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.” (Matthew 7:7-8 NIV). The words struck him like a 2x4 across the back of his head.
Tom fell to his knees, closed his eyes and began praying. “Please, Please Lord, help me. Give me some inspiration!”
He remained that way for what seemed like forever, silently begging, pleading. Tom slowly opened his eyes and stood up and turned towards his computer.
There was something strange about it though. The screen emanated an eerie, unworldly glow. And on the previously blank page were the words “Hello Tom”
After getting over his initial shock, he sat down.
Tom hesitantly typed back “hello” and waited. Nothing happened. He tried again. “Who are you?”
This time the computer answered. “I'm your Muse”
Tom felt his jaw drop. This couldn't be happening. “Very funny. No really, who are you?”
“You prayed Tom. You finally sought Me. I've been waiting a long time for you to do so.”
The words stung his eyes as Tom read them. “Lord, I never realized! I was always so busy.”
“I know.”
“Lord, I need your help to finish the story. I have a deadline!”
“I don't work that way Tom.”
“But in the Bible, You said “ask and it will be given”
“You must seek Me further Tom, to know what I want for you.”
Tom sensed himself getting frustrated.
“I know what you're feeling Tom, but trust Me. Forget the deadline. Go spend time with Cindy.”
Tom sighed, and with it he felt the tide of his despair ebb.
“ok, I will.” Tom waited a moment to see if his Muse had anything else to say, then he turned off the monitor.
“Cindy, are you ready?”
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