Muse Fart [Working Title] Prologue

I started writing a novel a few days ago, as a post-NaNoWriMo project. It's kind of like a sequel to the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo, so it probably won't make any sense to you. The basic premise is that the MC is Cassie, a Muse. if you've done NaNo before, you'll know that we all have Muses who we rely on for ideas. But what happens when the Muse lets us down? Or worse, if it goes on holiday? Yes, this was a crap idea that I thought of at midnight last week and you'll probably hate it, but I'll post it anyway, and let you decide.

Muse Fart

The Inner Editor is Out to Get Me

An Incomplete Novel

by

A. Writer

Prologue:

Above on some cloud high in the sky (or something along those lines, anyway; it might have been Norway or Antarctica, judging by the temperature), an ethereal being was watching a desk buried with papers on another distant shore with a concerned look on her face. The papers hadn't moved for what seemed like years. Suddenly, one of those papers seemed to twitch. The ethereal being gave a sigh of relief and quickly used her x-ray vision to assess the situation. The relief that she had just felt moments before was fading, fast. Something was very wrong. Underneath the pile of papers sat a human being, transfixed at the letters before her. Those letters were meant to make up her novel. Sadly, they did not. Instead of a novel, they resembled a bunch of unreadable squiggles, filled with corrections with black markers and Tippex. Suddenly, the human being began to sob, trickles of her tears splashing onto the paper. Her mascara (and her nose) was also beginning to run. It was not a pretty sight.

The ethereal being scowled. “This has the work of the inner editors all over it,” she muttered. “Damn it, everyone else is still on holiday because NaNoWriMo isn't on. I have to stop those wretched inner editors from ruining A. Writer's novel. I hate being her muse.” She sighed. “I was beginning to like Norway, too.  Where else am I supposed to buy Invi Dolls from?”

She shoved all the items that she currently owned into her 'Mary Poppins' style bag - it wasn't that huge a deal to be able to stick a lamp into a bag in Museland, in fact, it was fashion. She then proceeded to fly down into stormy Chicago where A. Writer lived... but she forgot one important detail. She wasn't permitted to fly until next year. Her license had recently been revoked for Dangerous Flying. It also didn't help matters after she had failed her flying test and had screeched, “Up yours!” at the examiners. So, apart from being unable to fly, she also had a restraining order against anyone from the Muse Board of Law Enforcement. This made it really difficult to travel to anywhere on Earth without using Muse Airlines, whom she hated with all her moral fibre. “Curse those examiners and inner editors!” she screamed as she found herself reluctantly materialising onto Muse Airlines.

“Going somewhere, Cassie?” an all too familiar voice whispered in her ear. “A last-minute ticket to Chicago, Illinois, America, Earth will be 2500 Marshmallows, please.”

“Frankie. We meet again.” She rolled her eyes theatrically towards the ceiling.

Frankie and Cassie had known each other since they were little Musettes, and he kept on popping up like a bad smell wherever she went, even more so since he had starting working for Muse Airlines. He knew all about her, how she was prone to memory loss on Earth, how much she despised A. Writer on some occasions, and the fact that she would always be determined to do what was right, no matter how big a mess it got her into later. Needless to say, although they tried not to show it, they cared for each other like brother and sister, and knew each other inside out (no, not in that way, you dirty-minded people).

“Muse Airlines is a bloody rip-off,” she grumbled, as she rummaged around in her Mary Poppins bag for the correct fare. Apart from not being able to fly this year, her stock of Marshmallows, Muse currency, was also running low.

“Well, it was your own fault for getting 'involved' with that inner editor...” Frankie was suddenly cut off by the heavy object that had made a connection with his head. It fell to the floor with a clunk. He possessed the annoying gift of being able to read Cassie's mind. “Oi!”he yelled.

“For your information, I did not get 'involved' with that snivelling excuse for an inner editor. Andrew kidnapped Auntie Mildred and was going to erase her from the novel; what was I meant to do? Leave her there? The traffic wardens and examiners have it in for me, anyway. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone because this is supposed to be my VACATION.” Sniffing, she adjusted her stale velvet seat and glanced out of the window. You'd think you'd get better seats for that amount of Marshmallows...

“Oh, now it's ANDREW now, is it?”

“Not another word, or you'll be hanging from this jet by your underpants tomorrow.” Cassie shot him a glare. In Museland, looks could really kill if you weren't careful.

Blocking the glare, Frankie said under his breath, “Ooh... I think I just hit a nerve...”

“I heard that!” came the reply.