An Unamused Muse Persists

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Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Flash Fiction February Day 23”.

Of all the times Addyth had wished muses could turn corporeal just to shake people, this was the worst. If she didn’t figure something out soon the poor idea seed would wither! And the thought of that brilliant potential, the far-reaching positive effects it could have, just fading away was, was… no, she wouldn’t even imagine it, lest the seed be discouraged.
Instead Addyth took a deep breath and planted her fists on her hips. Glaring at the oblivious human who should be writing a powerful, moving opera about his childhood experience as a refugee, but apparently preferred to wallow in self-doubt.
As if that ever fixed anything!
Addyth had tried sprinkling inspiration. She’d tried dredging up memories. She’d tried haunting his every waking thought. No matter what angle she took, he just flinched away and reflected on how his last few projects had flopped.
“That’s part of why I’m here!” Addyth screamed down his unhearing ear.
Not only was he well suited to the project, he should be receptive to trying something new! Something he could go wild and be passionate about! But noooo. He’d rather sit indoors and mope and fiddle about with his website all day-
Website.
Addyth’s breath caught, her eyes sparkling, as an idea occurred. So perfect it could’ve been sent to her by the Great Muses - though she knew it hadn’t. Such things were reserved for mortals. This was a mundane brilliant idea.
She tenderly tucked the idea seed into the man’s desk drawer, on top of his favourite pen, then sprang up, up, up to peer down at the planet from above. Seeking the rest person to nudge. Aha, there, on the other side of the world, was someone sitting down to browse the online groups they admined - one of which was a fan page for this composer!
Leaning close, Addyth murmured to their subconscious about how the group could do with engagement. Why not ask people about their favourite pieces he’d made?
To her relief they were receptive.
A few more leaps, a few more nudges to select group members around the world, and then enough responses trickled in to get the attention of the algorithm. More people chimed in. A full discussion was ongoing. Not only positive but constructive. Perfect!
Now. How to bring this to his attention?
Back to the gloom-leaden office. Addyth peeped in on the seed and gave it an encouraging pat.
“Hang in there!”
Shouldn’t be long now. After all, how hard could it be to get a procrastinating artist to check social media? Just needed to nudge him to search for mentions of him… ooh, she didn’t even need to do that! Someone had tagged him in the thread! (In a gushing comment, no less.)
Addyth punched the air as the composer sat back and read the comment. Then the ones replying to it. Then the ones above it. Then other, older posts in the group…
Ok, she should have factored in how hard it would be to get a procrastinating artist off social media. C’mon, c’mon, be inspired already!
NO! Don’t go checking other groups!! Ugggh this was a mistake. How to refocus him?
The idea seed peeped. A soft, feeble, plaintive sound. Addyth scooped it out of the drawer and cradled it, anxiously checking its glow. So faint. Just hanging in there.
“If you don’t try, it’ll be gone forever!” She fumed, and waved the idea seed under his nose one last time.
He was chuckling at a random video of someone’s silly baby. The glow couldn’t reach him with that beguiling screen on.
Addyth sagged, tears welling up.
Then he turned off the phone, still smiling to himself, and leant back in his chair to stare thoughtfully out the window.
In her hands, the idea seed pulsed. Rustled. And slowly one frond peeled open.
Thoughts swirled around his head. The memories she’d found of his childhood, muddled with that baby video he’d just watched. The comments on that thread about how his work had inspired people, even changed the way they thought. Some of the dismissive comments made on his previous projects by critics - but this time, his recollections were tinged with spite.
Good, good, spite was excellent fertiliser for idea seeds - so long as you fermented it properly, rather than letting it get dank and rot.
Addyth delicately balanced the seed atop his head, and this time, finally, it was able to settle and take root. Its glow returning full force and fronds opening to taste the thoughts around it.
“Yeeees!” Addyth did a little dance and beamed.
Oh, this was going to be beautiful.

Prompt was “Far from our reality, in the place where ideas are born, a matchmaking agency pairs new ideas with writers and artists through the magic of inspiration. As a worker for this agency, you know how important it is for these ideas to be born. When a writer starts to doubt their ability to write the idea you sent them, you’ll need to take matters into your own hands to ensure it’s not lost forever…”