“You have to find your muse.” My creative writing professor said when I told her I didn’t know what to write about for our first writing assignment. I left her office frustrated and dissatisfied. Many great writers have their muse. I was yet to find mine. I didn’t want to be in this class, but it was university requirement. I had to take it to obtain my degree. People have always said, write about what you know. I don’t know anything.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned as I was trying to come up with idea of what to write about. I hadn’t a clue. Nothing was inspiring me. The due date was vastly approaching and I had less than a week to come up with something promising. I rolled over and willed myself to sleep on it.
That night I had a terrible nightmare. In my nightmare I dreamed in third person. It was as if I was watching a movie. There was a woman and her two children who were trapped in a room with no windows filled with stacks of clothes. The adults who were sitting at sewing machines hastily making clothes with small children folding the finished products and adding them to the stack; they anxiously glanced over to a door. A hideously splintered door hinged tightly, the only way in or out. What was behind that door was the Entity. A faceless, soul-sucking being in black that brought terror wherever it roamed. When the Entity would emerge from its hideaway the people in room would clamor into a circle around the Entity. It would circle around trying decide on a child to sacrifice for the Choosing. When the decision was made, the child would go fourth willingly arm in arm accepting the Entity. The only way to be spared is to offer the Entity coins, but only the Entity would determine if the child would be spared based on the number of coins offered. Once the Entity has taken the child through the door, they were never to be seen again.
I awake violently from slumber, breathless, sweat running down my temple. I fumbled around in the dark for a notepad and began to write what I had dreamed. I looked at the time, 3:10 AM. I was too spooked to fall back asleep. I spent the remainder of the night writing down my story. There was a lot of questions to be answered. Did the family ever get out? How would they get out? Can I add more characters? How should I end the story? I had so much work to do.
I perfected my story. I was never satisfied with it as I edited and revised. Eventually, I turned my paper in to my teacher. She handed them back the next day and wrote on the back, I see you have finally found a muse. Interesting choice to use a nightmare. This story was quite disturbing, but in a good way! I would like to know more about the Entity. Great work!
As strange as it seems, nightmares are my muse. They evoke my creativity in ways that I cannot understand. At the beginning of the semester I really disliked the class, but that’s because I didn’t have a muse. Not having anything to write about is frustrating. I have started to write down my nightmares so that I could eventually turn them into stories. They inspire me to write.