“Drama is attracted to the Muse.”
This is a personal truth in my life. I’ve had this idea sitting around for ages, and I've finally found the words to bring it to life. I hope you enjoy this short piece!
The Muse was beautiful. No matter the shape she took, she inspired any who saw her. She often took on the image of the Greek Muses too, to entertain the lore surrounding her. She would be fair skinned and dark haired, and her eyes would hold worlds within them.
She called herself simply “Muse,” a fitting name. Anyone she told it to told her it suited her.
Muse lived at peace with most everyone she met. She walked slowly when she went through parks, making sure to look in the direction of the boy with his notepad, sketching a metal statue. She looked too at the couple sitting on the stone bench beneath the trees, who sat still as stone, to watch squirrels and pigeons approach. The girl there would be inspired; she would write about it someday.
Muse didn’t usually speak to those she inspired, just observed. That’s what Muse thought was best: observing. If you observed, you were a true artist. You saw the things others overlooked—the emotion slipping from a stranger’s eye, the adolescent girl who tap-dances for hardware store checkout cameras, the way that snowflakes perch on black and demand to be appreciated, the toy cars on a young college boy’s dresser…
Muse liked those things. They told a lot about people.
Most all that Muse did was observe, in fact. But sometimes being mindful and watchful got her into trouble. People noticed that Muse watched. People watched Muse too. One of those was Drama.
Drama had many, many names. They had many, many faces too. Drama liked that about themself. Many faces meant many stories; Muse agreed but in a very different way. Perhaps it was true that Drama and Muse were two sides of the same coin. Muse went about planting stories and inspiration, let the idea make a ripple effect on its own. But Drama got right in front of you, told you what you should believe, making a splash in their wake. No one escaped the waves they made.
Muse did not like Drama.
But Drama loved the Muse.
Drama thought, should they get in front of Muse enough, should they talk and talk and talk and talk, that their ideas would inspire the Muse. Drama would compel the Muse. Of course, they thought. All good inspiration from the Muse comes from Drama, from us. She needs us to create, she needs us to be. She needs us.
Muse did not feel the same.
There was enough in the world around her, Muse thought, that she could work with. Small things inspire large things. Large things inspire small things. All without doing damage.
Drama did damage.
Drama spread rumors. Drama told lies when they needed to. Drama shamed the confident and beautiful for the inferior to feel good about themselves. Drama withheld the work promotion. Drama threw away business cards. Drama didn’t inspire; Drama hindered. But it made for good stories. At least, that’s how Drama saw it.
Muse couldn’t quite disagree. Here she was, writing about Drama after all. Drama had forced their way in front of the Muse. Drama demanded to be seen.
Muse was tired of it. After a while, she decided, she would use the stories Drama shoved her way. They would not be stories Drama liked.
So it was final, that if Muse and Drama were two sides of the same coin, one side would be Universal Truth and the other would be Satire.