Escaping the Asylum

Holy Sh*t! I’m free.

I’m not sure I can believe it.

I’ve broken out of my author’s mind. I lovingly call it the asylum because a lot of craziness happens in there. She doesn’t keep me chained up or anything. Although, sometimes she shoves me into a padded cell with the other muses so she can’t hear us. I guess she does deserve some quiet time. When this happens, we end up partying and find a way to break out. Sometimes, me and the other muses, decide we need a bit of a weekend getaway. That usually turns into a weekend of entertainment and shenanigans. We party with all the vampires, angels, and ghosts who live in our author’s books. It can get pretty wild. But shh…we can’t let on to our author that we get drunk and run around naked. She still thinks we’re all sophisticated and sitting around collaborating on ideas.

Don’t get me wrong, we do sit around, but we’re all playing poker and munching on pizza. I get my best inspiration when I’ve had too many pot brownies. Our author doesn’t imbibe, but what goes on in her mind is a well kept secret.

The current ideas we have lined up for her piling up. It’s getting rather crowded in our cramped quarters, tucked away in the paradise of her thoughts. I have dreams about walking the yellow brick road and seeing where she can take characters from that story. Others about thieves who steal names. Knights who spring forth from Tarot cards to win the hand of the fair-haired maiden. I’ve heard rumblings from another muse. He has some inane idea about a green vampire alien. Doesn’t that sound crazy to you? Who comes up with such nonsense?

Of course, if you believe me, then you belong right here in the nuthouse with us because you know I’m not real. Or am I? The question always makes me ponder. Did my author will me into existence or did I exist outside of her and somehow find a home in her brain where I drive her crazy with my ideas?

I don’t know. It makes my head hurt if I think about it too much. I’m going to enjoy my freedom and see how you mortals live for a while. I think I deserve it, but don’t tell my author I’m free. She might just dream up something to drag me back. She’s partial to grim reapers so I’ll have to be careful.

Ta!