Aoede

Aoede sat with her sister, Mneme.  "She doesn't want it, Mneme.  It's not that she doesn't have inspiration so much as lost her desire to compose.  Jane doesn't want to write and I can't figure out why.  I've been watching her for years, helping her.  But a year ago, something happened.  She has ideas, but its like something inside her snapped."

"I remember.  But I don't think she does.  Something feels wrong about the entire thing."  Mneme stood and sighed.  "Tea's ready.  Would you like some?"  Aoede nodded.

~*~

Jane held the glass up to her eyes, the ice inside it clinking softly.  It had just a small bit of amber liquid and not nearly enough for her intended purpose.  Still, she tipped it back and let the whiskey burn down her through.  Slamming the glass back on the table, she got up and went to the cabinet to grab the bottle.  She paused for a moment, her hand reaching for the bottle.

"Just who does she think she is?" sneered Jane.  "Aoede?  What kind of name is that, anyway?  And a muse? A Muse who can't make me do something.  Next she's going to show up again and tell me I need to be willing to be inspied.  Bah!"  Wrapping her fingers on the cool glass, she stumbled back to her chair and flopped into it.  Her vision went a little blurry around the edges as she unscrewed the cap.  She kept pouring until the glass was three-quarters full.  Settling back into the chair, Jane sipped her drink and grimaced.

Why was it, she wondered, that people seemed to be harassing her lately.  Ever since she'd secluded herself a year ago things had gone progressively downhill.  She still had her job, which meant she still had money coming in.  But her friends had stopped coming by, she'd stopped writing music, she'd lost touch with her family.  It just kept compounding.  It was the proverbial slide.  And she couldn't stop it.  She didn't feel particularly different, or depressed, or whatever.  So why had it all changed.  Jane took another sip of her drink.

"Maybe... just maybe that Aoede person had something right.  I should pick up a pen and try writing some lyrics, at least.  But... no.  It won't do me any good.  I'll just end up throwing it out.  Might as well not every try."  She sighed and closed her eyes.

~*~

Not sure where this is going.  Don't know if I'll continue it.  It's an interesting idea, but I'm not feeling like it really captures my interest.  The first part did, but this second one?  Not so much.  Maybe I'll post up some sections of my story from NaNoWriMo and continue with that.  Give me a chance to reread it and figure out what I want to be doing with it.