THE MUSE'S WAITING ROOM

THE MUSE’S WAITING ROOM

The room has a surreal, almost celestial, glow and could be described as a typical Livingroom. In the room characters of various ages and genders are waiting.

“Why are we here?” asked a younger woman to the younger man sitting beside her on one end of a long sofa.

“I don’t know why, or even where we are, do you?” he asked

“No. All I know is I suddenly vaporized and first noticed you sitting beside me. Then I noticed the other people waiting.” she replied honestly.

“Did you also hear a soft voice whispering for you to wait?”

“Yes, I heard it, and I suppose we’re sitting together because we know each other somehow?”

Yes, I think we do, because I remember your eyes,” he said softly as he looked around the room.

>

“Mom where are the rest of my toys?” a six-year-old boy asked his mother as she sat watching him play with a toy fire truck.

“I don’t know, Jimmy, but they always show up,” she reassured him and watched him grin in response.

>

At the far corner of the room two soldiers were pacing the floor.

“Why are we here?” the first soldier asked.

“It doesn’t make any difference, because we’re enlisted men. All we can do is wait for our orders to act,” the second soldier reminded him.

>

In a love seat, opposite where the long sofa is placed, sat an older couple waiting like everyone else.

“Has anyone told us why we’re here yet?” the older woman asked.

“No, that soft voice whispered we should wait,” he replied.

“I don’t mind the waiting, but I’m worried about our two dogs.”

“Dogs? I thought we have two cats given to us by our granddaughter,” he answered with a puzzled expression.

“Maybe we do. Or did? Or maybe we have both? I can’t remember, Sweetheart.”

>

On the opposite side of the room from the soldiers, three teenagers, a girl and two boys, are leaning against the wall.

“Besides not telling us why we’re here, I’m missing the newest episode of the Zombie series on cable,” one of the teen boys, a nerd type, complained.

“And I’m missing cheerleader practice,” the girl added.

“So what? I need to be getting ready for our big football game,” the second boy told them.

“Dude, I thought you are the star player on our baseball team,” the nerd type mentioned.

“I seem to remember I am, or was, or tried out for the team and didn’t make it.”

“And I’m supposed to be getting ready to enter my science project in the state competition next week.” the nerd type them.

“I thought you were on probation for stealing money from some scared, runt of a freshman,” the cheerleader reminded him. “Or perhaps not.”

“What happened to that punk who wouldn’t take no for an answer when he tried to force you to go all the way?” the football, or baseball player, asked her. 

“My father, the Special Forces guy, had a talk with him and his parents. Then the parents made him transfer to another school.”

“I don’t remember that happening,” the Science nerd said. “I thought you two tried to elope. Or maybe I imagined that happening because I’m jealous and have a crush on you.” 

“Don’t make me gag, you nerd.” the jock teased him.

>

In the center of the room, where the six-year-old boy was still playing with his truck, suddenly four of his favorite toys vaporized on the carpet beside him and he responded by grabbing them and hugging them.

>

Perhaps ten feet from the boy, a Cowboy, mounted on his horse, suddenly appeared.

“Can you take me for a ride, Mister Cowboy?” the boy asked him as he stood up.

"I’m sorry I can’t do that, little buddy, because I’m not supposed to be here,” he told the kid, then told everyone else, “This writer’s muse thinks she’s funny because she knows darn well this writer doesn’t write Westerns.”

After telling them this, he disappeared.

>

And soon after, in the same spot, an Alien appeared in a translucent mist. As soon as they noticed him, one of the soldiers aimed his rifle at the Alien.

“Unless you want to get demoted or end up in the stockade, don’t even think about shooting him. We don’t have orders to do so,” the second solider reminded him.

“The people from my planet are peaceful observers who wouldn’t hurt a human. But even if we weren’t, your crude weapons are useless against us,” the Alien told the soldiers and, to prove his point, focused on the two rifles and they vaporized. Then he explained to everyone in the room why he showed up. “I’m simply here on a memory vacation, because the writer wrote some short stories about his friendship with me.”

After telling them this, he suddenly vanished into the same translucent mist.

>

“Wow! That was so cool,” the six-year-old boy exclaimed, then looked up at his mother. “But, Mom, where are my best friends Abby, Hal and Chuck? Shouldn’t they be here?”

“I don’t know, Jimmy. They were in the last story about us, but maybe we moved. Or maybe they moved away. Or maybe they’ll be in our next story.

After the told her son this, the soldiers and the teenagers vanished, leaving the mother and her son, and the older and younger couples.

>

The son looked at everyone in the room, then smiled at his mother.

“Mom, we’ve got life again in a new story,” he proudly told her, then added, “I guess these other people are in the same story now. And maybe the nice, older people can be your parents now, because the real ones died in that plane crash before I was born, and I never got to meet them.”

“That will depend on the writer,” she reminded him, as she came up to hug her son.

Soon, the older couple and younger couple were standing beside them in the center of the room.

“Let’s just hope it’s a happy ending story, because I’ve already had too much drama in my life,” the younger women told everyone.

“Oh, I’m sure there will be some challenges, perhaps some obstacles to work through, even some lessons learned, but the outcome depends on the writer,” the mother reminded them.

“I’ll work on the fickle muse,” the older woman offered.

“And I’ll seep into the writer’s memory banks and trigger his happy memories from his childhood,” the older man said. 

After saying this Jimmy’s three friends vaporized and ran up to him. 

And slowly the creative thought chamber lighting transformed into a dream sequence.