A muse: a short story


(No I didn’t take the pic- wish I knew who did)

She sits there staring at me. “What am I suppose to do again?”

“Inspire me,” ‘clearly’ said with no pressure intended.

“How?” this question urked with a desperate curiosity.

“You’re a beautiful woman, you may just need to stand there,” my words rang as a pick up line yet they were meant as the truth.

It doesn’t seem that “truth” in words, with no other intentions, are familiar to most ears. Often processed as having double meanings telling a woman she is beautiful is always considered a lie.

“Nice try dude,” she wanted to leave and was free to- if she wanted.

“Wait,” she stopped- perhaps in a hope that I wasn’t lying, “What if it wasn’t a lie?”

“All men lie about that,” she half-cocked lied.

“I can see it in your eyes. You don’t want to believe that,” I was right and she knew it.

Stopped in her tracks, “What do you want me to do again?”

“Just stand there and let me look at you.”

And that’s how the muse was born.


What if it wasn’t all a lie? What if, in your heart of hearts, you believed the kind words spouted at you? What if you realized you only interpreted them as being spout? What would happen then?


Published by: Craig Wilson

Craig has been an event coordinator, filmmaker and been enthusiast since the late 90's. Currently programming film festivals and studying to become a certified beer judge he plans on marrying his skills as an event coordinator, filmmaking and growing beer knowledge.

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