The Gift


POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

The Gift

By Nandy Ekle

 

I’ve got the characters. I can hear their voices and see their faces. She throws roses into the arena. The bright sunshine glints off the sequins on his suit making him look like a glowing god. He bends down, scoops up one of her roses, and makes a big gesture of smelling it. In the background, the opponent beats against the toril, the gate to the arena. She sucks in a deep breath as the crashing of the monster’s body gets louder.

I have the situation. The female character and the male character are unable to deny their attraction to each other. Their love causes the conflict, and the monster behind the gate raises the stakes, as does the third character, her husband.

I’ve been researching my heart out. I’ve had to learn some history, some new words, a very different culture, and even different names. I’ve had to look up facts, rules, and definitions. And just when I’m ready to start writing, a new question comes up and I go back to Google.

I’ve worked so hard gathering information that I’ve gotten myself extremely excited to get this going. So I open the computer, put my fingers on the keyboard, and . . . . . . . sit there. You see, reality has happened. Overtime on the day job. Laundry piled up. Empty refrigerator. And then, the top of the list, a big time illness pops up.

So I’ve promised myself a gift. This weekend I will take my computer to a quiet little coffee shop and not allow myself to leave until I write the words “The End.”

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

 

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Abracadabra


POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

 

Abracadabra

By Nandy Ekle

And now for a bit of magic. If you watch close, you’ll see it happen before your very eyes. So pay attention, don’t talk, no breathing or blinking. Ready?

I’m going to take this blank page and paint a picture using only my imagination.

We start with a pure white screen. Notice, no hint of color anywhere. Suddenly, a frisky yellow ball appears at the top of the page. Besides the bright contrast of color on the white page, you also notice the temperature around you is going up. The warmth is friendly and comforting.

You are also beginning to notice the smells of hundreds of roses. As you breathe in the distinct smell, you can see the reds, pinks, yellows, whites, and even some exotic rose colors such as blue and purple. You walk closer to a bush standing almost directly under the sun and reach out to touch a velvety petal. That’s when you feel a sharp pain in your fingertip. You didn’t realize I put thorns on my rose bushes, did you. No matter. They aren’t poisonous.

But how about the bee hiding in the center of the flower?

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.