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Missed Muses By Amy Mullis
I want to start a terrific story today, but I’m out of ideas. As if I’m not having enough trouble concentrating, here come my busybody sisters, Cleo and Thelma. Between the two of them, they probably know every secret in the fifty states, outlying territories, and detached Arctic ice floes.
“You need to get out in the sunshine,” Cleo said, peering into my face. "It looks like the only light you’ve seen in three weeks came from the glow-in-the-dark buttons on the remote control.”
“I’m waiting for a brilliant idea. I’m going to sit here until inspiration strikes.”
“We’re going down to the mall. They’re giving free CPR classes. We’re going to be dummies.”
“You’re overqualified.”
“After that, we’re headed to the library. That lady that turned out to be Strom Thurmond’s love child is autographing copies of her book. She’s got some story to tell.”
“You go without me. I’m trying to think up some fresh plot lines.”
“Okay, but we came by to tell you what Dad got in the mail today. You’ll never guess what it is.”
“A credit card offer?”
Cleo rolled her eyes. If she could roll a ball like she did those eyes, she’d bowl a perfect game every time. My brother says she can see what’s in her back pocket without a mirror. “It’s a piece of the decking off that submarine he served on during World War II. It came with an official certificate from the State Department. I guess all those wild stories he told us about scouting raids in the Pacific and taking leave in Hawaii were true all along.”
“Remember that old picture of Mama in the wedding gown she made out of that piece of lace she got on sale and how she married somebody else while she was waiting for Daddy to come back from war, and then couldn’t live without him?”
We all sighed dreamily.
Thelma stood up and smacked her hands together. “Well, if we’re going to the mall, we’ve got to leave. The bank down the street was robbed and the high school is locked down. You can’t get through the traffic. There’s a swarm of cars from all those parents wanting to pick up their kids. It’s a mess.”
“Go ahead. I need peace and quiet so I can hear my thoughts.”
Cleo peered over the top of her glasses. “Say, are you using the computer that fireman pulled out of the church fire?”
I sighed. If I didn’t answer, they would babble on forever and I’d never be alone to lure my muse.
“Yep. The building was unstable and the chief ordered them out, but this one guy cut the power cord and grabbed the computer at the last minute so we’d have the church records. I let it dry out for a month before I dared to plug it in.”
“It’s a miracle you were around to plug it in. You were the last one in that church.”
“I’m just glad they got all the kids out.”
“Who called the emergency squad that day?”
“The guard from the textile mill across the street from the church. I used to see him in the guardhouse all the time, but I never found out his name.”
“Wonder what happened to him when the mill closed?”
“I don’t know. It’s a shame. This town grew up around that mill. They gave money to start the church way back in the '20s. Now they’re both gone.”
“It sure looks lonesome out there.”
“I can’t think about all that now. I’m going to sit here until I get a visit from my muse. I can feel her presence nearby.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about that. But if we don’t get to the mall, they’re going to let someone else be the dummies.”
I watched them walk down the path to their car, their heads teetering like bobble head dolls as they talked. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why the voice of my muse grew quieter with every step they took.
Amy Mullis lives in a small town in South Carolina where nothing ever happens, and yet the local paper is always full of somebody’s business. You can find her lurking in fresh produce at the supermarket, jotting down other people’s conversations.
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