Changing of the Muse
“Love was on his mind. It made him feel good, happy...”
Timothy Worth stopped typing. It wasn't working for him. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, hoping to scrape up some more inspiration for his latest great-American-novel-in-progress. Nothing was happening for him. His old friends, the muses, had abandoned him.
Worst yet, the door to the home office swung open. His former muse, his wife Thelma, stormed in, looking and acting as ugly as ever.
"You didn't put my mouthwash away after using it!" She blasted him.
Pain rushed to his temple and coiled itself around his head, making it linger longer than it should.
I remember once the first utterance to escape from you pretty, little lips was ‘I love you,’ he thought, but didn't dare to say it out loud.
He managed to crane his head and tired eyes toward her (despite his reluctance).
Oh, how I despise you, he thought as he gave her a fake grin.
He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, hoping to scrape up some more inspiration for his latest great-American-novel-in-progress.
“Pick it up, now!” she growled. “You worthless crud!”
The venom of her comments struck deep into him. He sat for a moment staring at her until he felt the weight of her glare tearing into him.
He pushed himself from the computer, reluctantly rose out of the seat and headed for office's exit. All the while, Thelma beamed him a scorching glare. He was in no mood to fight. Thus, he kept his mouth shut.
"And can't you put your dishes away?" she added."How many years has it been? And you haven't learned to clean up after herself?"
The kitchen was near the office. He had a good view of the sink. It was full of her dishes.
"Some inspiration you were," he couldn’t help but say under his breath.
"What?" she snapped.
He didn't answer and she didn't pursue it any further. He continued his reluctant trek to the bathroom to put the mouthwash away.
Then it struck him -- as he placed the mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. His old friend -- a muse of sorts -- inspiration planted a notion in his head.
Thelma was once an inspiration for love stories. Now, she was a muse for another genre. Something that reflected what he really felt and wanted.
He returned to the office, and just in time. Thelma left. He heard the bedroom door down the hall slam shut. He was alone with his computer. He sighed in delight.
With his new-found liberty from Thelma, he sat behind the computer. Gleefully, he started to write.
“It would be easy: mix the cyanide with the mouthwash and all his troubles would be gone.”
The Inspiration is Not What you Think
The characters in this story are purely fictional, if you were thinking otherwise. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Now that my statement is out of the way, let's take a look at the real inspiration.
There were two celebrated (or notorious) criminal cases in Los Angeles, in which the suspects were basically revealed by their clumsy and poorly written novels or screenplays. The Mendez Brother described details of their parents' murders, thus exposing their guilt in the crime. In another case, an arsonist( who was a fire inspector), had revealed his crimes in a novel he was writing.
This is not the first time a criminal was caught in this fashion. Oddly enough you'd think people who have committed such crimes would've been smart enough not to leave such evidence in their creative writing endeavors.
Maybe it's human nature. We all tend to boast and brag about getting away with something. The problem, however, is that our boasts -- and then our attempt to subtly let the world know about the crimes -- can expose more than one anticipates.
More on Muses
© 2014 Dean Traylor