100 WORD SKITTLE // Gravity Falls

She was at her favourite author’s book launch. Nay, he was a literary god with a cannon to launch said book into the stratosphere.

Seated in the first row, she tugged at the hem of her miniskirt and adjusted her combat helmet. A notebook was perched on her knees—her readers needed to hear about this!


Off went the cannon. Where was the book? His false teeth were hurtling into the air but… no book. This had become quite the jaw-dropping event!

She hoped she would be lucky enough to finagle an autograph and a sloppy wet kiss afterwards.

© All rights reserved 2022

a Muse (Prologue)

Урок 28 - The Muse (by Gloom82)

Another masterpiece by Anton Semenov. Do you like? No?! Damn him… go away!

– Write!

Cold water flows down my face and I open my eyes. Damn him! Again… My nose inhales fusty air and I understand that this nightmare isn’t just a delirium. It’s real… I take up the wet pen. I write ‘fuck you’ carefully in the moist writing-book. Letters are dancing and I close my eyes, but I can’t close my ears.

– She will write. She can. She’s trying to rebel but I can force her.

…give me the strength to speak and to be silent
give me the strength to be a lamb and a tyrant…

Some might suppose that this is my paradise. I would agree if it were not for one zesty detail… What would you name the paradise that you can’t leave? I call it a gaol. Do you want to debate this? No? I thought not…

…give me the strength to inflict the death-blow
give me the strength to endure the last throe

Sometimes I try to hide myself. I squeeze my puny body into the corner behind the door and close my eyes. This trick doesn’t work. She finds me, finds me every time. I still don’t know how she does this. I’m always on the alert yet I’m always taken unawares. She moves like a weasel. She has small sharp teeth and eyes like gimlets

…give me the strength to hold the king’s crown
give me the force to stay the court clown

– What are you mumbling? Stop it! You can’t fool me! I know you from the ground up! Write! Stop talking! Write! Write!

…give me the strength to lift up the baton
give me the strength to stop the marathon…

She bends over me. Muses are the most cruel and pitiless creatures.
I curse the first fucking day when I wrote my first poem. I curse the first fucking day when I saw her small sharp teeth and her eyes like gimlets.
I curse the first fucking day when I smiled at her. She…

My Afflation. My Curse. My Muse… I lose my consciousness. Finally… (to be continued)

© All rights reserved 2014

Welcome, my dear incurable friends!

OK… a leper supports a leper.
Salt is salt and pepper is pepper.
Nobody argues with fever or grippe.
Why can’t we forgive any casual slip?
Nobody is perfect. Nobody is ideal.
We should be liberal. We should be genteel.

We all are infected by Virus of Writing.
We should be friends… why are we fighting?

P.S. I open the new category Guest Posts’.
Welcome, my dear incurable friends! Just write me!

© All rights reserved 2014