A fortnight ago, a weedy woman lay moaning in a hospital room. Plastered from head to toe, her broken frame was invoking curious comments – few marveled while many ridiculed.
“How stupid can one be!”
She moaned and wailed, cursing the devils behind her misadventure.
It all started on a cold October evening when Mrs. Fuller came across a writing contest. The magical words caught her fantasy and awakened long-forgotten dreams. She had always wished to write; but familial commitments had taken priority over passion.
Her eyes gleamed with hope and joy.
From underneath a pile of dresses she unearthed hidden treasures – a journal and a Mont Blanc pen. Armed with her ammunition, she got set to conquer. Watch out, literary world! Here I come to claim this month’s prize, she announced to no-one.
With a childish glee, she doodled her name on the first page – Sylvia Fuller. The royal blue ink sparkled against the aged yellow. Flipping over, she jotted down the heading – QT 24 – Upside Down.
On the lush lawns, rocking in her chair, she dreamt of the prize. Bees and butterflies cheered her as she embarked on a new journey. The crimson skies brought the birds back home, but the pages in her journal were all bare – with only the title shining in blue.
And thus, started Sylvia’s daily routine.
She spent hours on the greens, sipping countless cups of coffee, and staring at the blank page till the skies sparkled with stars.
Her jaws dropped as she read one of the submissions. The mouth-watering picture derailed her from her literary sojourn, and she wasted valuable time searching for the recipe of Maqluba. Unfortunately, her cooking was a disaster. Cursing the writer, she returned to her journal.
Her hopes and aspirations plummeted as she read stories on the magic of belief and hanging wisdom. She admired and envied the writers – for both her brain and the pages were blank. With ulta palat, a story by a whacky young writer, her grey cells crackled. Her spotless mind came to life – the title reminding her of Dan Brown. If he can, why can’t I!
And off she maundered to the gigantic oak tree. Using her writing desk as a ladder, she climbed on – huffing and panting; till she reached her destination.
It was time to take her search to the next level. With a cheer, she hung upside down from a mighty looking branch. Swaying against the wind, she hollered! “Yes! I have found my muse.”
Unluckily for her, the joyous moment was a bit too short-lived. “Aahhh,” she screamed as the branch gave away, and she found herself on the hospital bed – plastered!
The kind doctor inquired, “Mrs. Fuller, how did this happen?”
“Oh, it was a devil duo at play,” she replied, cursing the ‘so-called elves’ at Penmancy, there’s no way I’d blame Dan Brown, the love of my life.
P.S. – Devils are not real, elves are!!
Author’s note – Dan Brown, the brilliant writer, used to hang upside down in search of inspiration for his stories. His idiosyncrasy proved to be my muse.