{"id":2706,"date":"2024-08-31T14:16:21","date_gmt":"2024-08-31T21:16:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2706"},"modified":"2024-08-31T14:16:21","modified_gmt":"2024-08-31T21:16:21","slug":"i-want-to-be-here-for-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2024\/08\/31\/i-want-to-be-here-for-you\/","title":{"rendered":"I Want to Be Here for You"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Write about someone who summons the creative muse through a convoluted ritual or method.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera was tired of waiting for inspiration to strike, she decided to force the issue. She\u2019d recently gone off on a study binge and devoured the contents of dusty old tomes of summoning. Everything she found on calling forth entities from other realms was jumbled together in her head, and she was going to put it to use.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She set up a chair and desk in the center of her attic. Her laptop sat on the desk, next to a water bottle and a packet of pretzels. Around the entire setup she drew a circle in chalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera placed a candle at each of the cardinal points. She followed each placement with a symbol drawn around the candle base, and chanting in what the books called \u201cthe language of angels.\u201d It sounded more like mangled Latin to her, but she was ready to try anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn\u2019t one of the host of demons or angels or other entities she wanted to summon, though, so she replaced the name with \u201cM\u016bsa.\u201d After placing the fourth and final candle and completing the last symbol and chant, she sat at the desk and turned on her laptop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She opened her writing app, and a cursor on a blank screen blinked at her. Kiera focused on her breath, and on the space around her. If she could\u2019ve done it, she would\u2019ve grown cat whiskers to feel everything within the circle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The energy she spent trying to stay cognizant of every eddy and current of air in the circle kept her from feeling as silly about the whole thing as she probably would have, had she stopped to think about it. Still, she was at the desk, the evening sky was darkening outside the attic windows and her world shrank to the light of the laptop and the candles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she\u2019d finished for the night, she had bashed out six thousand words and had figured out how to build the transition to the next chapter. Kiera did feel a little silly chanting the dispelling portion of the ritual, but if she was going to do a thing, she\u2019d damn well do it complete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seeing how well it had worked, Kiera decided to repeat the ritual the following afternoon. She had ten hours free, and she was going to put them to good use.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The chalk circle and symbols had faded, as though they\u2019d been half-heartedly swept up. Just as well, as the entire ritual itself seemed to have unlocked some part of her mind that let her write uninterrupted for hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera redrew the circle, placed new candles, drew the symbols, chanted the incantations. She sat and opened her writing app. No sooner had the cursor appeared than she felt a stirring of the air behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was still wondering if she should turn around and show herself that she was imagining something when she heard it. \u201cWhy?\u201d the soft voice behind her asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera whipped around to confront the intruder, who shrank back against the invisible barrier created by the summoning circle. It was a small figure, about the size of a small child, but as Kiera\u2019s vision cleared, she could see they had eyes that held eons in their depths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you\u2026?\u201d she let the question drift off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The figure still huddled against the invisible wall. \u201cYour muse. Please don\u2019t do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo what?\u201d Kiera held out a hand. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to be afraid of me. I don\u2019t want to hurt you. What\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shook her head. \u201cNo, if I knew, I wouldn\u2019t have asked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They seemed to relax some. \u201cA muse doesn\u2019t have a name, unless their assignment releases them by giving them a name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAssignment?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are my assignment.\u201d Despite the more relaxed posture, the muse\u2019s eyes carried a look of resignation rather than relief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat were you afraid I would do to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have me trapped. You\u2019ve summoned me to the physical plane, and I can\u2019t leave until you release me.\u201d The muse sat at the edge of the circle. \u201cYou almost got me yesterday, but I managed to stay out \u2014 barely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t even \u2014 well, until just now anyhow \u2014 didn\u2019t<\/em> believe in any of this. It was just a way to force my brain to focus on the work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you did<\/em> believe it would summon your muse, and that\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d The muse continued to watch Kiera with a wary eye. \u201cI\u2019m just not part of your own mind, like you thought.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera crossed her arms. \u201cWhat sort of thing would a person do to their muse that scares you so much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis.\u201d The muse closed their eyes and visions swam before Kiera. A circle, much like the one she sat in, but larger, surrounding a two-story house. In the circle,  just outside the house, the muse clawed at the barrier, shrieking in pain as they wasted away, as though they were starving to death in time-lapse. In the house, an elderly man stood nude, painting directly on the plastered wall. Kiera recognized the piece; Saturn Devouring One of his Children<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The vision faded and Kiera understood. \u201cYou were Goya\u2019s muse, and he summoned you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe was my assignment,\u201d they said, \u201cand he summoned me. He wouldn\u2019t let me go for over three years, and my rage and pain filled his Black Paintings. When I was little more than a husk, the circle was dispelled by someone else. I still don\u2019t know who.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait, if I take inspiration from you, it uses you up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA little.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat restores you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The muse shrugged. \u201cRest. Enjoyment. Leisure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera pursed her lips. \u201cYou really are a fickle muse, you know. It\u2019s like you\u2019re here, filling my head with ideas for a few days, then you disappear for weeks. Does it take that long to recover?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2026shouldn\u2019t. I\u2019m just\u2026broken.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without thought for the little muse\u2019s worry, Kiera knelt before them and gave them a hug. \u201cYou\u2019re not broken. You\u2019re wonderful. You\u2019ve given me so many good stories over the years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI just haven\u2019t been right since\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d Kiera continued to hug the little muse as they relaxed into the hug and began to weep. \u201cYou have some trauma to deal with, and I\u2019ll help you any way I can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d the muse said. \u201cCan I leave now? I\u2019m not used to being in the physical realm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn one minute.\u201d Kiera leaned back and looked into the muse\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou said you only get a name when your assignment<\/em> names you, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The muse nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I can\u2019t keep referring to you as \u2018hey you,\u2019 so let\u2019s pick a name. Are you male or female?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHmm.\u201d Kiera thought for a few seconds. \u201cHow about a name that works for either or both. Do you prefer Pat, Alex or Jesse?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI quite like the sound of Pat. It\u2019s small, like me.\u201d There was a hint of something more than fear or resignation behind the muse\u2019s eyes; something like hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell then, your name is now Pat. I look forward to seeing you again soon, Pat. And really, thank you for all the stories.\u201d Kiera chanted the dispelling chant, and the chalk circle faded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pat still stood before her. \u201cNow that you have named me, you have no power to summon me. You\u2019ve freed me, but I\u2019ll come back soon,\u201d they said as they disappeared from the physical realm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kiera sat back down at her laptop. \u201cYou better, Pat. But only after you take care of your own well-being.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She typed away for hours. The horror of Pat\u2019s ordeal, fresh in her mind, provided the fuel for the harrowing closing scenes. It was as the sun was rising that she stopped, having finished the first draft; the final chapters flowing out of her like a gushing river.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She opened the page of the document that contained the forward material and added, \u201cTo my muse: You\u2019re not broken, but we all need someone to lean on from time to time. For all the times you were there for me, I want to be here for you. Thank you, Pat.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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