The Muse

It was a...

I'd written those three words and then deleted them again about a hundred and seventeen times now. I stared out of the window, waves crashing at the beach, with no revelers to disturb its reverie. I almost turned my gaze away to delete and rewrite the same phrase hundred and eighteenth time when I saw... her... 

A black silhouette against the red sun, wet hair waving about, sowing golden pearls with every turn of the head. Tender slim fingers, reached up for hair and pulled them backwards, water dripping down her slender waist. As my eyes adjusted to light, I saw her light up. Color returned to red and black world... gold. Golden sunlight lit up every single droplet of water sliding down her body, falling around like fireworks as her waist sashayed to the rhythm of the waves, like a skirt made of golden strings. She didn't seem to walk, but glide across the sand. A golden angel, only instead of wings she had...

That was it, the title for my new story, The Golden Mermaid. My mind, stuck in a rut for days now, was suddenly buzzing with ideas and visuals... could feel every single synapse firing inside my head, and a thousand visuals flipping by at thousand frames per second. My fingers ran across the keyboard and just within five minutes I had the outline of the complete novel ready and done. I turned to look at the window.  

Damn.

*******

I was just strolling down the market, trying to figure out what to do with $25,000 that the editor gave me for securing rights to 'The Golden Mermaid'. And then I realized that I didn't have anything more than those five pages. I suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, staring at a white sheet out for drying on a balcony. The white of the sheet reminded me of the blank white screen with a blinking cursor, just the way my mind was.

It was then that raindrops fell on my head. I looked up, hot afternoon sun almost blinded me, not a cloud in sight. And then I saw them, her wet hair, water dripping off them into my face as she moved about with gay abandon. I felt, their cool comfort as they blocked out the sun. Drop by drop golden pearls splashed on my face. The market ceased to exist, silent, blurred into a hazy existence. Water still falling on my face, soaked in smell of her... like first rain on eager sands. She looked at me, smiled and apologised. A sudden wave of her hand and a look of horror on her face. Her left hand went to her mouth, then right one and then both extended out, her head shaking all the time. Then she winced and turned her head away. A splash, wave, of water and sun shone from behind her and as sun rays caught every single drop of water. Goddess... she looked like a goddess with a seven color halo around her. She screamed something, I couldn't hear. Yes, the Goddess. I jumped up in joy and closed my eyes.

SPLASH!

WHAM!!!

"Am I in heaven?"

*******

"I'm sorry."

"No its okay, am okay. Not hurt at all."

"No, I meant about this."

She pointed to the soggy mess of pulp on the table. It took me a while to realise it was all that I had managed to write so far, the unfinished manuscript. But I didn't mind, I didn't need it anymore. And I told her that. I told her, how I felt she was sent by gods, in fact, was a goddess herself, Goddess of Inspiration. My muse. She laughed at it, the most carefree laugh I'd ever heard, or ever will.

"So, will you be my muse?"

She stared at me, her eyes, drawing me in into their calm and I knew even before she said, "Yes."

And then she kissed me. I could taste a thousand oceans and see in my head the stories the oceans held deep within their heart. Stories of worlds where no lands exist, where no human has ever set foot. My arms wrapped around her, legs intertwined with hers, till we were fused as one, swimming deepest oceans, of ecstasy.  

Fingers flew over keyboard as words came forth without any effort. If I found myself stuck somewhere, just sight of her, covered in the sheets, staring back at me, took me back to the world which existed only within her. For days she let me explore that world in her and I just translated it into words. She never read what I wrote, which made sense in a way. The chapters were coming thick and fast, and so was the money from my editors. Money, which I was glad enough to lavish on her. She was a goddess indeed, and it was nothing more than meager offerings to the goddess.

Everything was going perfect, but for one thing. The ending. No matter how hard I tried, just didn’t know how to end it. The editor, and half of his family, mother's side, was curious enough to know how it was going to end. Many a times I asked her how it would end, told her, I had no idea where it would go, how to end it. But she would just smile, shrug it off and ask me not to bother too much about it. If I tried to insist, she would silence me with a kiss and an embrace that would take me into that world of hers, swimming deep oceans with her, within her, with no end in sight.

And the editor refused to give anymore money till he had the final chapter in his hand.

*******

A local cop was a fan of my works. He was the one who told me, all about her. It was her modus operandi, preying on guys like me, single and vulnerable. And she hopped from one victim to another, like a vampire, sucking out all that she could and then moving on to next one. Just trying to survive in her own way in the big bad world. Vampire.

I was distraught, but in some ways I had my ending now.

"...never to be seen again." 

And with those final words, I let out a deep sigh. Finally the novel is done. I feel so... drained. I don’t think I will be writing anything again for a long time to come, maybe never again. I hit the print button and the monotonous drone of the printer fills the room. In the distance I can hear the high tide. I stare out of the window, its full moon, bathing the ocean in its silver glow. The printer stops grumbling and goes to sleep. I close all the documents and start taking backup on the USB drive. Its then that a very old file catches my attention.

I open the file. She had written it, sometime when I was asleep, a long time ago. She had written it, my ending, long before I even thought of it. Suddenly I recall something and reach for an old trouser of mine and search for its pockets. A washed out slip of paper, I carefully open it. Barely readable, yet, legible enough, a phone number, her phone number. I call the number, someone picks up the phone.

"May I talk to..."

I run out, towards the street where I first met her. It’s closed, and dark, yet I know where it is. I climb the stairs. But an old desolate ruin welcomes me. Spider webs all around, no one has lived her since ages, no one but empty echoes. And as am about to leave, I see in the corner, a dusty old red plastic bucket and a small piece of paper next to it. I pick it up. It’s a photograph.

Black silhouette against the red sun. I stare out of the balcony. The moon is full in the sky, bathing the ocean in its silver light. A gust of wind blows into my face and I can feel her breath hot upon my cheeks. I take a deep breath, can smell sweat on her golden skin. And as my tongue rolls over my lips, I can taste... the deepest of the oceans.

And I can feel... her embrace. I smile, empty streets, mute witnesses. And I walk towards the ocean, into her arms...

...never to be seen again.