i wrote profiles of kungfu fighters who were listed in a championship. they were all females dressed in funky chinese-style outfits, the kind worn by fighters in virtual PlayStation games.
but the best thing was how words just glided off the tip of my pen. i only had to move it back and forth over the paper and.. voila, amazing verses appear. i didn’t even have to think!
and then i saw her. a spiritual female figure who looked like one of the fighters. a sheer gleam circled her hovering body.
my very own muse. i almost couldn’t believe it. but, well, it was obvious that she was the one who put wonders onto my head and my right hand. just before i woke up, she gave me beautiful sentences for my writing contest submission piece. they sounded really familiar—like my stale ideas were finally transformed into perfection.
then i woke up. and forgot everything.
