Not sure if I posted this here before…
Conversation With An Imp
I awoke in the gloaming hour of the evening with a sheet of paper pressed to my cheek. With a yawn, I retrieved the pen that had fallen to the floor and smoothed out the page. A few of the words were faded, and I suspected that a cursory peek into a mirror would reveal those very letters tattooed upon my cheek.
Raindrops tapped out a cadence on the roof as I sat at my desk staring into the droplets that pattered against the window. With a sigh I pushed aside the stack of papers covered with ebony scratches that I struggled to organize into coherent thought. Notes and random bits of verse littered the margins while many sentences were crossed out. Some were covered altogether in violent swirls of ink.
With a groan I tossed my pen down, and ran my fingers through my hair in exasperation. “Drat my easily distracted Imp of a Muse!” I muttered aloud. “Teasing me with inspiration just beyond the reach of my imagination! If only he were corporeal. I’d love to…”
A low whisper that was almost a growl tickled my ear. “If only I were corporeal, you would love to what, My Lady?” The worlds were tinged with laughter.
I squeaked as I leapt to my feet, scattering paper and pen as I did so. My mug of tea clattered noisily to the floor. I muttered curses under my breath, but did nothing to retrieve the mug as I looked about the darkened room. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I convinced myself that I was still groggy with sleep.
I turned my attention to the broken mug on the floor, carefully picking up the three equal pieces. As I placed them on a nearby table my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of forest green on my shoulder.
I squeezed my eyelids shut tightly in disbelief. Surely I was still dreaming. There appeared to be a pair of brown leather boots attached to the bits of forest green. After a few moments, I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head to find a small being on my shoulder.
It was difficult to focus on him without straining my eyes, so I hurried to the hallway and peered into the gilt framed mirror that hung there. He sat quite comfortably on my shoulder and appeared corporeal one moment and vaporous the next. Forest green pants were tucked into soft brown boots and either a short sword or large dagger was secured to his hip; I could not clearly see the weapon. His dark grey doublet was embroidered with a lighter grey thread that wound its way up the seams like a silvery vine. Jet-black hair spilled over his shoulders and down his back. The sides were pulled back away from his face and an intricately wrought circlet settled itself just above his brows, while two dark ribbons of hair spilled from his temples.
His grey eyes twinkled as he folded his arms across his chest. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something? I’ve been trying to capture your attention for some time now. But, since you’ve finally summoned me, my task is easier.”
“Time? I haven’t that luxury.” I mumbled softly. I turned my face away from him so quickly tendrils of dark hair flicked him neatly off of my shoulder. “Better for you to leave me to my lack of confidence. Find a vessel better suited to your fanciful whims.”
Unperturbed at his sudden and ignominious removal from my shoulder, the imp leapt neatly to the table and sat on a pile of books. He stroked his bare chin thoughtfully.
“Why?” he asked pointedly. “Why should I, when I am positive I have chosen correctly? I am never wrong.” With a chuckle he quickly added, “Well, almost never. I have since learned that patience and prudence go hand in hand.”
I eyed him dubiously with arched brow and folded arms. “What makes you so confident? There is always a first time for failure you know.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” he replied. “You have ignored me for the better part of two decades in favor of HER. She who must never be ignored.” The last sentence he nearly spat out and I began to wonder if he were about to sulk.
“You are so dramatic. By the way, don’t pout. It is very unbecoming.”
“Who’s pouting? It’s true. Have you any idea how bored I have been all these years? I thank the stars daily for your various journals, otherwise she would have been insufferable and I would have wasted away to a shadow. As it is,” he gestured to himself furiously, “this is bad enough. I’ve been reduced from an elven lord to a mere sprite.”
And yet you are large enough to try my patience. I thought. “An elven lord?” I asked aloud.
The imp grew to the size of a small child before my eyes as he drew himself up haughtily with a smirk. He was now seated at the edge of the table with his legs dangling over the side. “Of course. How else could I draw your attention away from Her?” He smiled wider at my flushed cheeks. “It was the only logical shape for me to choose. I’ve tried the shapes of ex-fiends, past jobs and enchanted frogs. I’ve tried the shapes of dogs, relatives, holidays, mythological creatures and even a dashing pirate captain. I am having the most fun with this one, and I intend to keep it.”
He pretended to brush off his nails where his lapel would be before he blew them off. “Not a bad choice, if I do say so myself. It has been quite effective really. Now, about putting my ideas down into words. What say you to an accord of sorts? Pay attention to my prodding for a while and do some creative writing. I promise to try and behave. I’m wasting away to nothing, and your journal entries have been disappointing. Dare I say it? Boring even.”
With a derisive snort, I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air. “Even figments of my imagination are critics! I suppose this is the part where I say ‘Fine, YOU come up with better ideas?’”
With a satisfied grin he sat back and folded his arms. “I knew you would see it my way.”
“What? I didn’t…I mean. Oh, for the love of…Fine.” I sighed in exasperation. “Say I listen to you. Who is to say that you won’t disappear in the middle of a fantastic bit of writing?”
Silence.
“Well? What have you to say for yourself?” I pointed towards the piles of paper that fought for space on my desk. “There are THREE different major ideas struggling to be written there. That does not even count my journals! YOU,” I pointed a finger at him, “ have some explaining to do.”
In the blink of an eye, he drew himself up to what I guessed to be his full height instead of reverting to an Imp like I had expected him to. With a smile that produced a dimple in his cheek, he bowed low before me, causing me to shift my feet in discomfort.
“What is there to explain, My Lady? I just threw a few ideas out there for inspiration. Can I help it if my creative genius prompted you to attempt all of them? It is up to you to weave the words into a literary tapestry. I chose you to be the vessel for my ideas because I like your style. Besides, do you know how tiresome it is to listen to Her brag about how she inspired you to create this, or draw that? How convenient that she glosses over the fact that all the journaling you do is inspired by Yours Truly.” His smile momentarily disappeared into a furrowed brow and a frown.
I sunk into my chair and closed my eyes. “You keep referring to ‘Her’.” I said as I massaged my temples with my fingertips. “Don’t tell me. There are more of you?”
“Oh, Jewel of Wisdom, you have no idea. Prospero himself had fewer sprites to attend him. She herself has a troupe of underlings. Artistically, you have dabbled into more areas of visual expression than even She can keep track of on her own.”
My eyes shot open and I drew my palms down my cheeks so that they cradled my chin. “Prospero? As in: ‘The Tempest’, Prospero?”
He nodded solemnly.
If my memory served me correctly, Prospero’s Island was fairly crawling with sprites besides Ariel. I shivered involuntarily at the thought of a host of unseen spirits swirling around me as I worked.
Had I known about them would have been one thing. Being told after the fact was another. How unfair that they never made themselves known to me. I idly wondered what would happen now that I knew of their existence. What was I thinking? I was having a conversation with a figment of my imagination. Of course they did not exist! I mentally shook myself and tried to make sense of what must surely be a hallucination.
He dropped to one knee before me with his right hand pressed to his left shoulder. I could feel my face flush (not for the first time since our ‘conversation’ began) as he offered me a crimson-feathered quill with his left. I was trying to decide if it was unease or irritation I was feeling when he finally spoke.
“My Lady, be it on my honor that I offer you the solemn vow that I shall see you through the completion of each idea that I present to you. Although I cannot promise that such completion shall take place in a time frame entirely suitable to your wishes, I am confident that you shall be pleased with the results.
A gaes. Oh the implications of his vow! My eyes glittered just thinking about the possibility of completed stories.
I tilted my head slightly forward in a nod of acquiescence. “I accept your vow.”
He grinned broadly in return, the dimple returning to his cheek. “I had no doubt that you would.”
“There is one small something that I want to know…”
He peered at me expectantly. “And that would be?”
I grinned cheekily at him. “You like Her don’t you? You like her LOTS.”
He treated me to another formal bow and a smirk. “As it has always been through the ages, writing has been inspired by artists, while the arts have been inspired by the poets, composers and bards. I admire Her greatly, and despite my complaints, we have worked hand in hand since the dawn of time. Without her, how could I inspire you to put into words descriptions and feeling strong enough to paint a mental picture in the minds of those who read them? And likewise, what good is the visual artistry she inspires, if one cannot describe them with words worthy of their beauty? Are not some pages of verse decorated with images? Are not some works of art adorned with bits of writing?”
I smiled and admitted to myself that I liked him very much. After all, having an Elven Lord for a literary muse couldn’t be all that bad now, could it? I frowned at all the possible ways it could go badly as a horde of clichéd ideas began to scare me.
“The second you start in on anything clichéd, silly and insane, don’t think for a moment that I won’t attempt to squash you!” I pointed a finger at him accusingly. “If I don’t catch it immediately, I have friends who won’t hesitate to harangue me about it.”
“Is that a challenge?” he grinned. “Of course I will try my best to avoid anything tasteless or overdone, but you have just given me fodder for future amusement.”
“I shall have to accept that. I look forward to gaining some headway on these.” I eyed the pile of papers longingly. “I want to know how they end.”
“Soon Impatience, soon.” He chuckled as he began to fade away in a haze of light.
“To Aslan, all times are soon.” I muttered as I once again lay my head on my desk, fatigue overtaking me quickly. I had decided my arms to be a very convenient pillow.
“Quoting her favorite Authors to the end!” a disembodied voice laughed somewhere above me. “Sleep soundly, and dream vividly. I shall visit again soon, though I shall never be far away from your imagination.”
I smiled as I slipped into slumber. My dreams were filled dryads, enchanted weapons, mist covered glens and giant custards.
