Midnight Muse

499 words

Midnight Muse

My muse has left me. It has been months since he snuck out and abandoned me. Now I sit and stare at the cursor of the laptop. I pace the small room when I became too frustrated; my cat Midnight watched me from his perch on the bookcase, but he too had finally given up on me. Midnight hasn’t been seen for the last few days. My constant companions have left me before I had a chance to self-destruct.

See, my muse Henry and I haven’t had the best relationship. We would constantly argue about everything, from the way I write, to why a muse would be called Henry. One thing we could agree on was what I wrote about; we loved to scare the hell out of people. And it didn’t matter if it was through writing, or setting up for Halloween, he would be perched on my shoulder pointing me in the right direction.

When we argued about the writing it was not that it was bad, but more, I wrote for myself and not the reader. What really got Henry going was when I didn’t put enough time and effort into it. He would jump up onto my shoulder pace back and forth and rant at me, and then poked me in the cheek with his cane till it hurt.
Just the other day, I was at my desk slouched in my chair, frustrated. My room was dark with only the laptop giving off its eerie blue light. Stacey and kids went to the store, which gave me plenty of time to wallow in self pity. I was just about to get up and start my ritual of pacing, when I heard the soft pats of feet that descended down the steps.

Large green eyes floated in the dark room. A broad smile crossed my face; Midnight had returned. He leaped on to my desk and landed with a loud thump. His large muscles rippled under his short black hair. He held his newly caught prey with his sharp teeth. Rarely did he ever bring anything home alive, but I could see the prey wiggle as it tried to break free. To my surprise Midnight dropped his latest catch on the desk.

It must have been stunned at first or too frightened to move, it just laid there. Slowly the small black mass begun to move; my second surprise was it stood up on its two feet and looked up to me. Henry’s little beaded eyes shined in the blue light. Henry dusted off his jacket and pointed his stubby little finger toward Midnight; I’m positive he was cussing the cat out for dragging him back here. Midnight let out a low growl as a warning. Henry looked back to me. He shook his head and begun his journey to his little perch upon my shoulder, and Midnight happily returned to his spot on the bookcase. I was filled with joy; I’m back.