2am…still can’t sleep as images race through my skull.
“Get up Jack…it’s time,” my muse says to me; her voice like silk brushing upon an exposed thigh. I can see her in my mind’s eye…her youthful lithe form draped in Samite white, beckoning me with extended arms.
“Three more hours…maybe five,” I plea.
“No, Jack…now,” she whispers with a stern tone combined with tints of seduction.
“I am so damn tired. I need sleep, go away,” I protest.
“No my love…Dragana needs you. She’s in peril,” she says, referring to one of the characters in my Dragon Rising saga.
“Her damn knights can help her when I’m good and awake,” I retort.
“But I need you now,” she whispers, preventing sleep to from taking me in her arms.
“Go away. I…I have a headache.”
“Jack?” she says with scolding tone as if I were a petulant child.
“Fine, damn you. I’m up, I’m up!” I relent as I shuffle to the living room in my boxers. With pen and sleep-deprived hand, I splash the contents of my brain upon paper, silently cursing through the whole affair. My writing hand can barely keep up with the ideas pouring from my cranium.
My beloved muse…lover…and tormentor.