A Complicated Journey

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man learns the price of being creative.

Submitted: May 15, 2012

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Submitted: May 15, 2012



Sitting at work, wasting time. I was writing down some ideas on a piece of paper I had. Just waiting for the work day to end. My coworkers walked past my desk, each one of the sighing as they passed. Obviously upset with my lack of effort, but what could I do? Work never interested me like writing did. It gave me wings, allowed me to fly away from all of this meaningless monotony. I absolutely loved writing, and absolutely despised my job.

The day wore on as I continued to write. It seems as if time speeds up tremendously when I'm in the zone. My boss had walked up to my desk, no doubt planning on giving me a lecture on my work ethic. I didn't pay him a single second of my time. The way I saw it was that we are all given a certain amount of time, why waste it doing something you hate? He must have saw life in a different manner, because all he cared about was his job.

His little speech about the quality of work and the dignity that comes with it annoyed me. What gives him the right to judge me? Just because I'm taking a stand against work and the monotony of day to day life I am to be his enemy? The only thing I really ever understood about having a job is the paycheck. Everyone needs money, but at what cost? People work for sixty years and still have nothing to show for it. I would have quit my job right there, had it not have been for what happened next.

After my boss walked away I started to feel a bit sick, almost like I was about to vomit. The room begun to spin, and my hand started to shake uncontrollably. I laid my head down on my desk, directly on top of my story. Then everything went dark, and I felt an unmistakable sensation. I was falling, head first into an abyss. But as soon as I entered this anomaly, I felt amazing! Better then I've ever felt, it was a welcome experience. Even as I fell to what could have been my death.

After what could have been an hour of continuous falling, My vision went white. As if my eyes were overloaded with light, and my soul was filled with joy. My vision begun to clear up, the overwhelming white faded into a off white. Textured with millions of tiny bumps, blue lines jetted across the surface. I then registered that I was looking at the paper on my desk! I rose my head to find myself back in my office. The paper that once held my ideas and stories was empty!

Looking up from my now empty paper, I noticed that my office is a bit different. The once drab and dismal layout of grey cubicle walls and egg shell paint no longer existed! The paint on the walls was now a vibrant blue, with a beautiful mural covering half of the wall across from my desk. The mural was of flowers, animals, kids, clowns. Pretty much everything people find to be happy. Every detail of the mural seemed Like a different artist took over. A dog was drawn with great skill, wile next to it was a crudely drawn sleeping cat. The grey cubicle walls were completely covered in peoples personal belongings. Pictures, drawings, art projects done by there children. It appeared that the rule against this art had been abolished. My coworkers appeared to be the same people, except they all have amazingly bright smiles and attitudes. From my desk I can hear laughing and joyous conversation. To think such a thing was happening in my office was absurd.

  This place seemed to be a beacon for creativity and inspiration! The women who who answered the phone all day now had a huge electric piano next to her desk, along with a mixing board, mic, acoustic guitar, and everything else one would need to create a beautiful piece of music. My boss, the hard headed shell of a man, was walking around covered in paint and had a gleam in his eyes that was unmatched! I don't know what happened, but it seems that I have died and went to heaven!

I picked up one of the many pencils I had, and started a new story. A story that would flow from me like nothing I have ever written before, because now I have lived a story worth writing! I wrote of my previous life, my transition, and my awakening into this Eden of personal growth and creativity! I wrote for hours, and before I knew it it was six in the evening! The time to punch out for the day has come and gone, and everyone has gone home. I begun Putting my story away and gathering all my belongings for the trip home. If this place was tremendously transformed then I couldn't wait to see the rest of the world! I punched out and locked up the building and begun looking for my car, but the parking lot was empty! I frantically doubled checked the entire parking lot, both in front and behind the building, but my car was gone and I had no way to get home. I walked around to the front of the building once more and sat on the curb, wondering what I was going to do.

After taking a little bit to think, I stood up and started walking home. I didn't mind walking, and lord knows I needed the exercise. I pondered as to why I didn't have a car, but figured I couldn't be too mad about it. As far as I know I don't own a car in this world. Along my route home I noticed that everything was a lot more colorful. The grass was a vivid green that shot out in every direction. The sidewalk was a lively shade of grey, which was something I would have never thought of saying before.The sunset on the horizon was an explosion of yellows and oranges that shot out over the light blue sky. I had to stop for a second and appreciate this wonder, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I decided to take the long way home through a small neighborhood. The houses were painted up unlike anything I've seen before. There was a bright green house with sunflower yellow trim along the windows. Others were covered in amazing murals that must have taken years to complete!

I passed a number of people, all of which were outside on there front lawns. The kids were playing tag with one another, running along every front yard they could. The adults seemed to be engrossed in there own creative activity. Some were painting, others playing music together, and others were filming the kids as they played. This world was a haven for the creative type and I was feeling extremely lucky to be here!

By the time I had finally reached my apartment I was drained, this was a lot to take in. How did I manage to arrive in this world? How did these people get so creative? The questions were piling up and I had no answers. Opening the door to my apartment I was a little shocked to see that it was very much the same. In fact I was so shocked that I took a look around, opening the fridge and checking the kitchen drawers. Just to see if it was all the same, but when I reached the bedroom closet there was a huge difference. Someone had snuck in and put there cloths and shoes in the closet with mine! An abundance of womens cloths now filled my closet, and before I was able to fully take in what this suggested the front door opened.

\"Hey, I'm home!\" This women shouted. I had no clue who she was but her voice was that of an angel! I slowly stepped out of my room to see this beautiful women takeing off her shoes. She stood there staring at me, \"Are you ready?\" A worried tone was noticeably present in her voice. \"Ready for what?\" I asked. \"How could you forget?! There gonna be here for you in a bit.\" Never being one to lose my cool, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a soda. I had no idea what was happening and was feeling quite overwhelmed, but there had to be a reasonable explanation. \"Our last moments together and you just gonna drink a soda?!\" She screamed. \"Who's coming for me, what's gong on?\" I asked after a few refreshing glups. \"Are you feeling well? There's no way you could forget, its too important.\" I took a second and gulped down the rest of my soda. Thinking about the best way to respond. \"Let's say I'm having an extremely hard time accepting this, explain again what happening and who's coming for me. It may help.\" She sighed deeply. An was obviously struggling with what she was going to tell me. \"The observers are coming to take you, you've been chosen this month.\" I looked at her, watching as her eyes filled with tears. \"Chosen for what?\" The tears begun to fall as she said \"The sacrifice.\"

Needless to say that at this point there was an elephant in the room. In a matter of minutes the beauty and wonder of this world was trampled upon. How could a world such as this conduct a monthly sacrifice? The answer was far beyond me, and perhaps if I was given another moments I could have composed myself and gotten out of there, but it was too late. In an instant, the door was broken down and 5 men rushed in. The women screamed and I ran to my bedroom window, but was cut off by a rather nasty looking man. He looked like he was just released from a twenty year jail sentence. His head was not covered in hair, but an intricate tattoo. He wore a robe that dragged along the floor. One wonders how he doesn't trip when he runs! The robe was red and black with yellow trim, and if I wasnt about to be taken I would have commented on the beauty of it. Before I had time to think about another way of escape, I was struck in the head from behind.

I awoke in a room, rubbing the back of my head where I have been hit. I was laying on the floor, underneath a light shining directly down on me. It was too dark past the light to make out anything of importance. I picked myself up, saw that I was laying on some symbol painted on the concrete. \"Hello!\" I shouted through the darkness, but the only reply I received was The sound of deep breathing. It was a sound that sent shivers to my bone, and it surrounded me. Then, a man walked into the light. He too, wore a robe of red and black. Except the trim on his was green. I wondered if the trim color was related to the persons position in this group. \"Who are you? What's going on?\" I asked.

\"Please, no questions. Everything will be explained before you are offered as sacrifice, Per our custom.\"

I saw no way out of this, if I ran I could have been struck dead right there. If I wait, I am still gonna die, but at very least I would know why. So I made the decision to shut my trap and go with the flow.

\"He is with us now, before he feeds upon you he will tell you everything. At the end of the story, you will be given the choice to ask a question. He may respond, he may not. The choice is up to him.\"

The man retreated back into the darkness, and a high pitched buzzing sound filled the room. I had to cover my ears Untill the sound subsided. A large figure, seven or eight feet tall stepped into the light. He too wore robes, but they appeared to be the robes of a clergyman from my world. He was bald, with the same intricate tattoo covering his skull. I jumped back in terror when I saw that he was without a face! My heart was pounding, and sweat begun pouring out of my forehead. He then spoke, but I herd him in my head, not through my ears. 

\"My child, you were brought here as a sacrifice. I know you are scared, but it must be done. As the cleric stated, I will share the story of the faith I have created.\" The monster paused. As if he was savoring the moment.

\"I am not of your world, nor am I an alien. I am an idea, given a form by your kinds need for my existence. I am creativity, to put it simply. In order for me to give my gift, I require a sacrifice ever thousand years. Either willing or not, it makes no difference. Not so long ago in your universe, I took the life of a man. That man gave me this form, he created it in a story of his. This man not only gave me his life, he also gave me an idea. This was the first time I had an idea inspired by another, and let me tell you. It was the best idea I'v ever had. I then traveled to this universe, thousands of years in the past. I established myself as a god, one that will fill the earth with creativity beyond imagination. In return, I only asked for there undying devotion and one single sacrifice a month. Which bring us here, to this crossroad.\"

I was stunned, there was no way this could be true. Creativity was not a living thing, it was an idea! I found no way I could accept this. That is, Untill he said.

\"The man that gave me this form was from your universe. I have tried returning there, but am unable too for some unknowingly reason. It was the one place where I was inspired. It was an unbelievable feeling, and I must find a way to become inspired once more. At any cost. That is why you are here Jake, I brought you here I'm the hopes of being inspired by you. Now, you may ask your question.\"

One question. One, simple question. It's a feeling all its own knowing that the next question you ask is your very last. I guess it doesn't matter if I believed all of this or not. I wasn't given much of a choice. This question, it had to count. I stood there for quite some time thinking about what I should ask. How could creativity be inspired? I thought to myself. There was only one answer, and in turn, only one question to ask. One that would strike doubt and worry into this monsters heart. I looked directly into the face of this monster and asked.\"Is inspiration stronger then you?\"

\"Not in the slightest.\" The monster responded. \"Then why were you inspired in my universe?\" He motioned to his worshipers and they rushed towards me, grabbing my arms and slamming me down to the ground. Pain shot through my back, and for a second I thought it might have been broken. He slowly moved towards me, he face getting closer to mine. A crack formed along the bottom half of his face, reaching from ear to ear. If he had ears that is. The jagged cracks opened to show hundreds of razor Sharp teeth, drool was dripping from the top of its mouth. It slowly moved closer to me, enjoying every second of the panic I was in. Before I knew what happend I blacked out, with him just inches from my face.

I awoke at my desk, drool pouring out of my mouth. My vision was blurred, and my head ached as if I was hit with a hammer. I lifted my head to find the dullness of my old office once again surrounding me. My coworkers returned to there normal, dull, and disconnected manners. The piece of paper that I once wrote ideas upon, lay there once more. Except one idea, that was circled multiple times with a pencil, and had a red cross painted next to it stood out at me.

\"What if creativity was hungry?\"

I left work as soon as I could and rushed home. I burst through my door and rushed to my computer. A story was born, born out of my experience in the other universe. I have no idea if what happened was real or not, but that creature inspired me. Inspired me to greater heights, and let me tell you. Inspiration will always be stronger then creativity.


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