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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1472446
How Writers’ Block Entered the World
His wings hurt as he ascended through the cold air blast of the late winter storm. Higher and higher, he flew; forcing his way through the snow and ice trapped in the vortex of the hurricane force winds, which surrounded Mount Parnassus. He knew this was no ordinary winter storm, he could feel the magic that surrounded the ice particles that cut into his white wings as they passed through the freezing blast whirling around him.

There is no other way, he thought as he pushed the burning pain penetrating both his wings and body, to the back of his mind. Impenetrable Walls of black crystals block every road leading to the mountain. The only way to reach Parnassus is to fly directly through the storm.

Pegasus had no idea what he would find when he reached the crest of Mount Parnassus. He had heard rumors of the attack, but could find neither eyewitnesses nor survivors. He had attempted to contact Poseidon, Zeus, Athena and even his own brother Chrysaor. However, none of them was available; it was as if they had all disappear off the planet at the same time. He knew for sure, no one had seen or heard from any of the Gods or the giants since the day before the attack on Mount Parnassus.

Suddenly the wind changed strength and directions, pushing him away from his target. He increased his wing beats and the pain became a torrent flowing from wingtip to tail and back again. Hour by hour he progressed toward his target each second an excruciating ordeal, but he could not give up. Too much was at stake for him to submit to the pain and the ice.

The attack on Mount Parnassus took place twelve months ago to the day. Ever since the mountain was defeated, no poet on Earth had written stanza or line. No musician had composed music on any instrument. No artist had painted and no sculpture had carved a statue. No one on Earth had created anything new for an entire year.

Without warning, Pegasus flew through the last of the cyclonic winds and entered the eye of the storm. Ahead of him, at the center of the eye he saw the crest of Mount Parnassus covered with ice and snow. No animal or muses moved on the mountain’s crest. No green plant grew or flowered. Every creature on the mountain’s crest stood frozen in place.

Weary and bruised from his battle with the storm, Pegasus lands on the only part of Mount Parnassus that is free of ice and snow. Heat ascends through his hooves and warms his entire being. Taking a deep breath, he sinks to the ground and falls into a deep asleep.

“Pegasus” the voice of Ode echoed through his dream, “the black crystal froze us. If you crack it, the ice will melt and we will return to normal. Once the crystal is broken, the wizard who created it will be powerless.”

Ode, Pegasus woke and looked around, Ode where are you?

Pegasus stood up, flapped his wings and then pawed the ground. He was alone in the only warm spot on Mount Parnassus. He could feel the pain in his wings as he moved them; he could feel the unhealed burses and lacerations.

No time to worry about my wounds, he thought as he mounted into the air pain shooting through his body, I must find the black crystal and crack it. I must free Ode and the others.

Pegasus flew low enough so that the winds outside the eye could not catch him and carry him back into the maelstrom. However, all he saw was snow and ice; nowhere could he see a black crystal. Finally, exhausted he returned to the warm spot on the mountain.

Before he could land on the warm spot, he saw a flash of movement in one of the buildings on its right. It was the marble Temple of Poetic Verses. He changed direction and landed on the Temple’s top steps. Going into the Temple, he pauses long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

In the center of the Temple’s entrance halls rested a huge black crystal. Pegasus circled around the crystal, studying it from all sides. Looking for a flaw fissure that he could attack, the crystal was a perfect thirteen-faceted stone. He could find no fissure to attack.

Taking a deep breath, Pegasus mounted into the air and struck the top of the stone with his front hooves. A sound reverberated through the temple, like an iceberg cracking and sliding into the ocean. A chunk of crystal broke off and struck the roof of the temple cracking its marble dome. Then the crystal disintegrated into black sand.

An icy wind blew through the temple, picking the black sand up and carrying off Mount Parnassus and into the ruminants of the dissipating storm. A cold laugh reverberated through the Temple of Poetic Verses.

“Thank you, Pegasus,” the voice sounded like a glacier scrapping against bedrock, “for helping me. My magic could only freeze the Muses and still the voices of art for twenty-four months, after that the ice would have melted and the crystal dissipated. Now, however, the poets and writers of the Earth will experience writers’ block with each grain of the crystal that penetrates their hearts. No author or artist in the universe will ever be free of the curse.”

Pegasus' wings and tail drooped, as he realized what he had done. His head down, he turned and walked out of the Temple of Poetic Verses.

Outside the Temple, Ode took hold of Pegasus main and mounted the stallion. “Don’t worry, Old Friend,” he leaned between Pegasus wings and whispered in his ear. “You and I will fight this curse together, whenever a poet or writer is affected, we will rush to the author’s side and be the invisible encouragement needed to overcome the curse.”
© Copyright 2008 Prosperous Snow (nfdarbe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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