A gust swirled the
tails of Raines' paint-spattered linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his
biceps, as if it were the dog days of August, not the chill gloom of February.
“You must come in, sir--the wind’s kicking up and you haven’t eaten in two days.”
Raines tossed his
brush, the bristles slathered with Mars Black, onto the palette in irritation with
himself and his absent muse.
The unfinished landscape was all
that stood between the ravening beast pacing with increasing agitation
inside him and the rest of the world. Hot with fever, his rising temperature bursting through the fuckin' stratosphere--and his muse had deserted him.
You picked a fine
time to leave me, Lucille.
***
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13 comments:
Great six!
Lucille!? Such an awesome name for a muse! Great six! I look forward to more. :)
Those muses are such fickle creatures, aren't they?
LMAO Omg, that last line, made me laugh! Now that Kenny Rogers song will be stuck in my head all day!!
Fantastic six, Taryn!
LoL - love that last line.
Interesting, his Muse must be quite something with a name like Lucille...good luck with this WIP, very intriguing six!
Now I have that song in my head! Nice.
Intriguing six. Good luck with the WIP. :)
Great six - love his frustration.
I can *so* relate to Raines. Sucks, doesn't it?! (And yes, I too now have that song stuck in my head. :P)
My muse doesn't have a name but sure can sympathize
The frustrations of a artist, I can feel it, well done.
Oh, a tormented artist. Loooove! Already love.
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