Call on the Muses I

June 24, 2012 § Leave a comment

Just a little exercise to help with my edit-and-stall-as-I-write problem.

Here, you can try it out, too:
~ Play your music on shuffle. Make a playlist if you want.
~ Don’t watch the time.
~ Don’t skip.
~ Write whatever story comes into your head for the duration of the song.
~ When the song ends, finish whatever thought/sentence you were on.
~ Create a new story with the new song.

Have fun!

Also, if you’d like to see any of these bits continued, just leave a comment. (^_^)

Thanks and enjoy!


“I am done with your bullshit!” she screamed as she stormed out of the diner.
“No, wait, we can make this work!” he shouted after her. She flung her purse (a gift) in his face without even looking back.
He caught up and grabbed her arm. She didn’t struggle away but she refused to look at him.
“How do you know if something good can work out if you don’t even try?”
~ Something Good Can Work, Two Door Cinema Club

The twins, one a boy and one a girl, stared out of the window at the strange skinny man shambling out of his door in the house directly across from them. Their mother called him a “most peculiar man”.
He shuffled off. Thunder cracked in the grey sky and rain poured down, first drop by drop, then all in a torrent. They stared after the man. He neither pulled out an umbrella or even turned up his collar. They watched him disappear down the street, face as hidden and grey as the sky above.
~ A Most Peculiar Man, Simon & Garfunkel

A young man skips down the sidewalk, brightly colored like a tropical bird in his brand new red raincoat and yellow galoshes.  He’s whistling a tune and his beaming smile can been seen a block away.
The greyscale crowd stared after him, eyebrows arched high into their hairline. The dark, towering buildings seem to lean away, to make way for this bright cheery sun.
He crowed out in pure delight and yelled out into the world, “Today, I am truly living!”
The Only Living Boy in New York, Simon & Garfunkel

I came to in a strange, white room, you know, the kind of white that is so white that it has a strange bluish glow to it. There was nothing here, no furniture, no windows, not even a door. Shuffling into a sort of sitting position, I realized I was completely naked. Somehow, I wasn’t bothered by that.
“Where am I?” I muttered to myself.
“Do you want another chance?” an airy voiced answered from behind me.
I whirled around. There was a gorgeous woman in satiny white, leaning forward, chin in hand and cross-legged, smiling on a chair that wasn’t there.
“What?” I flopped out.
“I asked if you’d like another chance.”
“What chance? How did you get in here? Who are you? How– how are you doing that?” I floundered, gesturing everywhere.
~ Eat That Up, It’s Good for You, Two Door Cinema Club

The girl glared up through her bangs, daring the monsters before her. Her split lip, bruised knuckles, and the slashes all over her body all bled sluggishly like one beating river.
They pounced and she threw them all off, kicked them over the edge of the skyscraper. Their yells echoed off the dark, polished, indifferent windows.
She squeezed her eyes shut against all the neon, the unhealthy yellow lights brightening the city like a sick version of day.
She threw her head back and screamed into the sky, all wild rage and bestial pain.
~ Blinding, Florence + the Machine

“Hey, have you ever read the story Rabbits by that Japanese author?”
“By who?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What it’s about?”
“It’s supposedly a twisted horror version of Alice in Wonderland. Or inspired.”
“Doesn’t sound like something I particularly want to read. Why?”
“Nothing important. Do you ever feel like– never mind.”
“What? C’mon, you can’t cop out like that.”
“Just, do you ever wonder about sacrificing yourself?”
Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up), Florence + the Machine
Note: There is such a story but I actually have forgotten the name of the author. I apologize.

She danced slowly, tapping her feet lightly into the grass, winding through the mossy trees. Warm twilight filtered in from the west, dousing the forest in benign flames. To the east, purple and navy ink was spilling across, and a bright pregnant moon was already rising like a composed queen ascending her heavenly throne.
Her heart thudded with the beating pulse of everything around her; the beasts, the trees, the rhythm of life.
~ A Drumming Song, Florence + the Machine

Do you suppose that there is such a thing as an unbreakable heart? Think about it for a moment before you answer. What leaves us more vulnerable to ruin than wealth, success, and prestige? Than trauma, atrocities, and murder? It’s quite obvious, isn’t it? Love.
What a useless emotion, don’t you think?
~ The Hardest of Hearts, Florence + the Machine

Find someone to read this out loud to you. Close your eyes. Imagine this in your mind’s theater. Harry Potter swooshing around on his broom, Chihiro sprinting uncontrollably down the stairs in Spirited Away, the glow of the thousand floating lanterns in Tangled, the bursts and colors and swirls of magic from countless fantasy books, the whir and swoop of planes in aerial shows, the tumbling and twirling sensation of rollercoasters. Warp speed and watch the points of light become bright lines, lines pointing you towards new and fascinating destinations. The thrill of a first kiss, the warmth of another body hugging you in the rain. Be a gallant knight and save lives; be a dragon and long for companionship.
~ Strangeness and Charm, Florence + the Machine.

It was over much too soon. It was too easy. Stories are so full of lies. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of final argument? A last blow that would wound them both but also bring matching smiles of forgiveness? Where was their one last chance at change?
She steadfastly ignored the drizzling rain as she rummaged among the junkyard. She found some nice clothes that weren’t too spoiled, and carefully dressed the body before rolling it into the bathtub. After gazing for a moment, she pulled the right hand up to cover the red stain on the left pectoral, like a pledge. She dragged over a barrel of crude black oil to the rusted ancient bathtub, and hooked it up to the showerhead.
The knobs squealed horrifically as she turned the shower on, raining shiny blackness over the resting body. Clicking open the lighter, she flicked the tiny wavering flame into the bathtub. Soon, even the droplets from the showerhead were falling like tiny dying stars.
She leaned over to gaze at the face. She caressed along the jawline only once before turning away. Sliding down the side of bathtub, she curled up and squished her face into her knees.
Set Fire to the Rain, ADELE

“Why, Apollo, why?!” Artemis shrieked at her brother. She rushed past to kneel beside the lady coughing and gasping on the ground. Her hands trembled violently over the wound, desperately trying to keep the beautiful red liquid inside.
“Because this,” Apollo spat, gesturing towards the two of them, “Is sick. It had to be done.”
“What sort of human poison have you been listening to?” she spat back. “This is their talk. Not what we believe.”
~ No Light, No Light, Florence + the Machine


Maybe I should broaden the playlist a bit. Suggestions?

Anyway, like I said, if there are any you would like for me to continue or think I should continue, leave a comment below.

Thanks for reading!


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