Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Risk (05/17/12)
- TITLE: The Day Imagination Ran Wild
By Theresa Santy
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“Let me out!”
Imagination stopped spinning, and she scooted toward her bejeweled writing table.
“No. You have suppressed too many of my ideas already, and they are all pressing against my skull. I won’t let you out until I’m finished writing everything down.”
“My dear Imagination, your passion is commendable, but you can’t simply write every hazardous thought that comes to mind. You must let me out. I can tame your thoughts, and guide you to towards reasonable expression.”
“Hazardous thoughts? I can assure you, my thoughts are quite safe. Besides, I prefer to call them dazzling, and no—I won’t let you out. Locking you up was my best idea yet. I only regret that you’ve woken up so soon. With you in the closet, I can think with abandon. I’ve got my writing wings on, and I’m about to fly with creativity.”
Logic’s giant, impenetrable forehead made a thud-like sound as it banged against the door.
“Those wings are nothing more than a costume prop. There is no scientific proof of any connection between the wings and your writing!”
“How can you say that, when you know they are inspiring?”
Imagination frowned. Logic was locked in the closet, and he still managed to oppress her spirit. Spinning in the yellow-green swivel chair wasn’t as much fun as it had been a few minutes ago, so she skipped outside, and out of earshot from the stifling voice.
Oh, the freedom! Imagination plopped into a bed of tall wet grass and rolled in it until her flowing hair was damp to her scalp. Then she drew in a long, deep breath, and absorbed the sky and sun, and the inconceivable power of abandonment. Using a tree stump for a chair, she scribbled down one dazzling thought after another. Her peacock feather pen fluttered with urgency, as her ideas came without stopping:
…A woman flies for no reason at all, leaving twinkles like diamonds trailing in her wake, and she crosses a field of leopard-print daisies that springs up from nowhere, where she finds a man the size of a grape. And oh, he shows her a band of sparkle-bottomed baboons, who wear banana peels for shoes; and everyone plays to an audience of hourglass kittens who eat dirt, sparkles, and sand…
Imagination filled page after page with dazzling ideas, until late afternoon, when a shadow fell upon her work. It was Logic, standing over her shoulder, holding a doorknob that was broken.
“Perfect timing,” said Imagination, gleaming. “I’m finished.”
Logic snatched up some of Imagination’s writings, and he scowled.
“You can’t use any of this. Sparkle-bottomed baboons? Banana peels for shoes? Give me a break. And for the last time, those wings are a toy. They can’t help you write, and they can’t make you fly! Nobody writes like this. Nobody will understand.”
“One, maybe. My dear, sweet Imagination, you have to impress the masses if you want to make any money, and you won’t impress many, if you don’t make any sense. Don’t you see? It’s too risky for you to write without me at your side.”
Imagination’s eyes twinkled, widened, and smiled. “It’s possible that no one will get it, but that doesn’t matter because I wrote it out of need. My dear Logic, don’t you see? I would rather move one, than impress many, even if that one is only me. Besides, what’s the point of showing readers what they can already see?”
Logic scratched his head, sighed, and muttered, “We are going to need another source of income.”
Imagination laughed and twirled, and then she ran wild, into a field of leopard-print daisies that sprang from nowhere, and her wings fluttered, and lifted her high, leaving a trail of twinkles like diamonds as she followed a man the size of a grape, who led her to a band of sparkle-bottomed baboons, who wore banana peels for shoes. And everyone played to an audience of hourglass kittens, who ate dirt, sparkles, and sand.
Except for Logic, who missed everything, since he’d gone back inside to search the classifieds, for opportunities in employment.
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