Scene 1. Guest
As the days go by, I forget about my odd book-store encounter with the strange woman. Amusing, but with no physical proof, I attribute the whole encounter to my ‘writer’s’ imagination.
I like to sit in bed at night and compose in the low light of my nightstand lamp, scribbling in the blue ink of a Bic fine-point pen onto ruled yellow gum-bound office pads, reminiscent of my nights in the hospital. I write to relax before sleep, dreaming up new material with continuing help from my new and forever friends, ‘The Voices’.
Eventually, I am stuck. My issue is not with the volume of new material. I scribble and scribble, but organizing the resulting pile into coherent narrative fiction stories eludes me…
I read the ‘how-to-write’ textbooks from the bookstore, studying story examples and story analyses, thinking that I am a pretty good creative writer, just having a little trouble with a few technical difficulties: context; pacing; continuity; grammar; dialog; spelling; homonyms; character development; and world-building. Apart from those few trivial things, everything is going great.
So, why am I sitting in bed staring at my pad, holding my pen, with a blank mind? Where do I start?
Is this ‘writers block’?
My concentration breaks when I hear a soft tapping sound coming from the front door of my apartment.
“Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.”
I am startled by the sudden sound in the otherwise quiet night as I turn to my alarm clock.
Oh my, it is nearly ten o’clock. I am not expecting anyone to come calling at this hour. Is it the ‘knock-knock-and-break-in’ burglars?
I set my pad and pen on the nightstand, arise from the bed, don my robe and walk out of the bedroom into the living room. I looked out the front door peephole to see the top of a head of a short person. The person is a small black rabbit-eared figure, facing my door, staring up at the peephole as if I can be seen through the door. My night visitor is the woman from the bookstore. She appears as I remember her, still holding the children’s fantasy book with the illustration that I liked.
I flash on my situation and my heart sinks.
Oh no, I hope my busy-body neighbors don’t spot my late-night lady visitor. My reputation is already bad enough. What to do? I can’t leave her standing outside on the walkway where everyone can see her.
I open the front door wide without a word, briskly waving my hand to motion my ‘visitor’ to step inside and out of the widely visible apartment hallway, throwing all caution aside as I nod, shivering with apprehension, choking on my ‘welcome’ statement,
“Please come inside!”
Scene 2. Threshold
The lady stands motionless at the threshold of the entrance to my apartment, staring past me, examining the living room. She speaks as if she is reading from a script,
“Do I have your permission to enter your residence?”
I again nod and motion with my hand for her to enter. I croak to her,
“Ahem. Yes. Please come inside.” Quickly now.
That was a weird thing for her to say to me. Does she need my expressed permission to enter?
The woman looks down at her boots as she carefully steps into my apartment, as if she is walking on her toes.
“Do you live alone?”
I squeak, “Yes. Sorry about the mess.”
She is eyeing me as she slowly walks in to my apartment. She passes in front of me and enters my living room, softly murmuring,
“Remember, you invited me in. Bah.”
Have I just agreed to something by letting her in?
I see some of my neighbors opening their window blinds and doors to peek out at the sounds of conversation, quickly closing the front door behind her with a loud thump, turning to regard my night visitor.
Wow, she is wearing really high-heeled boots. I hope she didn’t have to walk very far.
I am gasping for air at the excitement, with my back against the front door. Holding it shut as if my snooping neighbors are going to push it open. As I stare at my night visitor, I reflect.
She looks the same as she appeared in the bookstore. She is the same unusual black lady, even still holding the picture-book.
I suddenly felt cold again, as I felt in the bookstore.
What have I done? I have admitted a young woman, a stranger, into my ‘single guy’ apartment, alone, late at night, with possible sentencing enhancements for her being underage and a racial minority. I’m doomed.
I cough into the uncomfortable silence, as if I am already accusing her of either blackmailing or framing me.
“Choke. How did you find me? Why are you here?”
Scene 3. Tutor
My nose twitches at the aroma that had followed her in.
She smells of sweet incense, and of sulfur.
She narrows her eyes and slyly grins into my frightened face, clenching her teeth into a smile. Her large white incisors are visible, as revealed by her cleft upper lip. Her canines project down over the sides of her black lower lip as slivers of white. We stared at each other for a few moments. After a short, strained silence, she speaks to me in her odd accent.
“I am here because you called me. Don’t you remember? We were still standing in the bookstore parking lot when you specifically requested my help, so I just followed your smell. Bah.”
Did she really follow me home by my smell?
She wiggles her nose at me then looks around my messy living room shaking her head.
“You don't remember asking me? You poor forgetful soul. You have created a nice 'artist’s garret' though. What a mess. Maids day off? Bah.”
She does not wait for my reply as she surveys the living room and spots something across the room. Carefully tip-toeing over the debris on the floor to the couch end-table, picking up one of my loose yellow tablets with pages covered by scribbles in blue ink, staring at the page. She speaks in a low tone,
“Let me guess. You are having trouble with your ‘writing’ again this evening. Am I right? Bah?”
I look down, shaking my head, still trembling with fear from my vulnerability.
“Yes, I was having some trouble with my writing this evening.
Seeing you here tonight is so sudden and unexpected, but I did want to discuss your help with my writing. I think that just having someone to talk to about my ideas would help me very much. Perhaps you could start a ‘writing tutor’ arrangement with me on a ‘trial’ basis, as you suggested, to see how well we work together.”
I shake my head again, frowning at the whole situation.
What the hell am I even saying?
“But why are you here now, at this hour? Isn’t it a bit late for a young lady to be out on the streets, or to come ‘calling’ on a male stranger that you only just met in a bookstore?”
She seems taken with my statement and looks towards me. She rocks her head back and bleats her peculiar laugh again, finding my statements hilarious.
“Bah, haw, haw!
What ‘young lady’? Me?
Is it after bedtime for you? Were you asleep?
Bah, haw, haw!”
“No. This time of night is when I usually write. And no, if you want to work at this time of night, it is fine with me.
I do ask that you be cautious about my neighbors seeing you come and go at these late night hours.”
“Are you afraid of a scandal from my 'night visits'?
Don’t worry. I'm black, so I blend into the darkness of the night.
Only you can see me,
Usually.”
Scene 4. Mimi
My visitor gestures by waving her black arm and gloved hand out towards the living room.
“Are you going to throw me out, or are you going to be a good host and offer ‘the young lady’ a seat? And ‘refreshments’? I could use a drink. My mouth is dry from the ‘flight’ over here.”
Flight over?
Then I remembered how she suddenly vanished from the bookstore parking lot.
Maybe she can fly. Why does that not surprise me? What am I dealing with?
I motioned back towards the kitchen and escorted her in. I pull out a kitchen table chair for her and one for myself. I set two water glasses from the cupboard on the table and retrieved a pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator.
“I don’t have anything but cold water, but I can make coffee or tea if you prefer.”
She smiles at my coy glances and nervous antics.
“Cold water will be fine.”
She’s pleased with how much she upsets me.
As I pour the water, I ask.
“Would you like some ice?”
I looked down to see her staring at me. I try to smile.
I guess this is only fair, as much as I stared at her so much in the store. Are we finally to 'introductions'?
“By the way, my name is ‘John’. How may I address you, my lady?”
My guest has finally relaxed her face to a smaller, less toothy, and less frightening, grin.
“My lady? No one has addressed me as such in modern times, if ever. My modern clients usually address me as ‘Mimi’, unless they are mad at me, then they call me other things.
Address me as you like. I don't have a last name.”
‘Mimi’ closes her eyes and smiles in satisfaction, as if she has scored a victory, as she eases down into the kitchen chair that squeaks in protest, as if she is heavier than she appears. Mimi pulls the chair up and sets her book down on the table. I speak in response.
“I like your name, Mimi. 'Mimi' is much better than ‘My Lady’ or ‘Hey you’.”
“Okay, ‘Mimi’ it is.”
Scene 5. Demon
As I am watching Mimi, her appearance undergoes a startling transformation. Mimi disappears into a black, hazy blur. Mimi reappears, dramatically changed in form. She now appears as only vaguely human. Her head was already strongly suggestive of a goat, but is now full-featured. Mimi has long black drooping ears on the sides of her head. Her jaw has become a long, broad snout with two large nostrils at the end. She also has a short black ‘goatee’ beneath her chin. Her oblong buns have disappeared. She now reveals a black curly mane from the top of her head and down the back of her neck. Her drawn and cleft upper lip is the only feature that remains unchanged from her ‘bookstore’ appearance.
Mimi is no longer holding the glass with her two gloved hands. She's holding the glass with both fore-limb hoof appendages. She places the glass below her mouth and drinks with her tongue and slurping sounds. Her face and exposed skin is covered with a short-napped glossy jet black pelt. I stared at her in shocked silence. Mimi frowns at my staring and sternly glares back at me.
“Don’t you panic and run away because I have dropped my human ‘glamour’.
You knew I was a demon since the time you first saw me in the bookstore! You thought I looked interesting, so you tried to ‘pick me up’.
So don’t you look afraid of me now.”
“I won’t kill you, and eat you,
“Yet…”
Scene 6. Contract
Mimi is still glaring at me as she opens her large mouth, displaying her dramatic long black lips, large white teeth and large pink tongue. She cannot resist teasing me again as she brays,
“Bah, haw, haw!”
As I lean back in my chair, staring at the real Mimi, I reflect in dismay.
I don’t think the surprises from my ‘night guest’ are over yet,
“Mimi, what are you?”
Mimi closes her mouth and stretches her thin black body as she leans back in the kitchen chair. She looks at me and smiles, trying to look and act like a harmless and innocent little black lamb.
“Your speculation about me is correct, I have been stalking you. I followed you in the store and before that.
I am a ‘muse’, and you are my 'assignment': my client; my ward; my victim. Take your choice. For the record, a ‘muse’ is a type of demon, related to vampires, although we (usually) don’t drink blood. I, and my kind, assist artists, and sometimes others: explorers; scientists; leaders.”
She smiles again.
“And no, ‘Mimi’ is not my original name. That name is too hard to pronounce in modern languages.”
Mimi looks up as if she is trying to remember something.
“What was my original name? I forgot. Anyway, I chose a modern name that is short, easy to say, and easy to remember.”
Mimi slyly grins with eyes drawn to slits.
“And to scream out while being tortured, bah.”
Is Mimi planning to torture me?
Mimi continues on the unspoken question.
“Yes. I was human, once upon a time, long ago. I wasn’t a good person, though. I was not allowed to join my sisters in Paradise. I fell from Grace, and was made into a demon.
Enough chitchat about me. This is about you. Bah.
So, what will it be, big fellow? Do you want my help? Is it ‘yes’ or ‘no’? Bah?”
“I really need a tutor!”
“But how does this work? You’re a demon, so do you need something from me signed with my blood?”
Mimi finds my comment hilarious. She brays her laughter, with her eyes closed, her head back and her mouth wide open.
“Bah, haw, haw, haw! That’s so old-fashioned! We haven’t done it that way for centuries, although we can if you prefer.”
Mimi closes her eyes and shakes her black furred body like a dog to collect herself and continues.
“Before I collect your ‘blood signature’, Oops! I mean, before we get started, please tell me what you want to write about?”
I hand Mimi my pad. She parses my scribbles, apparently able to read it.
“Wow, you can read my writing?”
“Sure, I have read countless scribbles in my time, your scribbles are pretty easy to read.”
I proceed to ramble about my ideas for a novella story, set in a historical fantasy world.
Mimi raises her fore-hoof to stop my rambling. She wrinkles her brow and hums.
“‘Fantasy’? Bah, hum, hum. 'Fantasy' is a crowded genre. It won’t be easy for us to come up with a unique story. I’ll have to throw in an extra charge for this, for me to apply a little extra added ‘kick’. Er, I mean, ‘inspiration’ to your writing.”
Kick?
I stared down at Mimi's muscular thighs. Her yellow high-heeled boots are gone, revealing her black demon shins with ungluigrade ankles. Her ankles are ringed with feathers of long black fluff, ending with large cloven hooves. Her two large, sharp-pointed toenails of her hooves glisten black in the lights of the kitchen. Mimi follows my stare, then she looks up at me, slightly raising her right hoof with a smile. She wiggles her large flexible hoof-toes and laughs as she startles me again.
“You also agree to any additional charges, such as for ‘detox’ treatment, or any other medical or behavioral processes that I deem are necessary to keep you alive, and working.”
Mimi scowls at me, as if I may be one of those difficult ‘detox’ cases.
Mimi then looks straight at me, in a low, slow, serious, voice, as if she is reciting a spell, carefully pronouncing each word.
“Think carefully about this unconditional and permanent agreement with me. Are you absolutely certain that you are not under any coercion or force to make this agreement, and you still want to go through with it?
You do understand that you must always cooperate with me.
You must always do as I command if you are to attain the results that you seek.
And that you will be 'mine', forever.”
I hunch my shoulders and lift my hands, palms up, in resignation.
“I will agree to 'anything' with 'anyone' if that helps me finish my book.
I wasn’t using my 'soul' for anything special anyway, so go ahead, Mimi,
Nibble away!”
Scene 7. Muse
I then notice that Mimi’s clothes have also changed. Around her chest is a pleated strip of light violet cloth, open shouldered to reveal the thicker black fur of her shoulder pads. Around her hips and waist is a short light violet pleated skirt, revealing more of her thighs and torso. Her legs are bare except for her short black pelt that completely covers her body except for her ears, lips, and eyes.
Although Mimi’s body is covered with black fur, it is short napped and flat, down against her hide. Her entire body form, her thin chest, narrow waist and upper torso, is completely revealed, her muscles can be seen rising as she moves.
Mimi grins as she sees me staring at her newly exposed body. She stands up, stretching for the show.
“Oh? So, do you like my new look, do you like me? Do you have a thing for demons? Bah?”
As she slowly turns on her back hooves, proudly displaying her thin, vaguely human-female form. Her lower body has also changed, revealing her large, muscular thighs and butt. As she turns around, I see she has large black leather bat-like wings folded against her back. Projecting from her butt is the long smooth flexible rod of her black tail. The tail starts from the base of her spine and ends in a small, broad black spade shape. She wiggles her tail when she sees my examining it.
“I made this outfit just for you, by reading your mind.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“How did I do? Do you think I’m 'hot'?
“Don’t look at me like that. I am not naked! Bah!”
I smile at her exhibition.
“You look cute, Mimi, I especially like your wings and your tail.”
“May I touch your wing?”
Mimi opens her wings for me to examine. Mimi frowns, pulling up the end of her long tail.
“I wanted a cute little fluffy erect wiggling goat-tail, so I could flirt by wiggling it at my victims, 'er', clients. The Examiners told me that the spade tail is a known badge of honor and that all qualified demons get one, regardless of what they had before. It’s the ‘union card’ for demons. Still, I would have preferred a cute little fluffy wiggly goat-tail.”
“I always thought that ‘horns’ were the demon’s badge, so how come you don’t have any horns, Mimi?”
“The short answer is that I am a black Nubian, so no horns.”
Mimi drops her tail and stares at me intently. Then she relaxes and smiles seductively, with a hoof coyly held to her mouth. I notice that she is staring down at my waist as I am sitting with my robe partially open.
“Oh, I see that I have ‘impressed’ you.”
I, too, see the ‘problem’ and I quickly pull my robe back closed. Mimi pulls her for-hooves under her chin. She turns her head slightly to give me a good look into her eye with the violet iris and the black bar. She smiles and bats her long black eyelashes at me.
“Okay, you can ‘have’ me. Right here and now, if you like!
Tonight, I’m all yours. Bah, haw, haw!”
Scene 8. Spark
I shake my head.
“I think you are an attractive demon, Mimi. I like the outfit that you created for me. Thank you for the personal touch, but I am not up to ‘doing’ a demon tonight. Maybe another night, after we get to know each other better.
I would very much like to write something tonight. Will you help me?”
Mimi scowls and stomps her hind hoof with a loud ‘clop’. Her thigh and butt flesh quivers under her black fur with the impact of her hoof on the ceramic tiles of the kitchen floor. I stared down at the impact site, alarmed.
Egad! Is that what she uses to deliver her ‘inspiration’?
“Damn! All of you artists are all alike: 'I want to paint'; 'I want to write'; 'I need to finish my sculpture'; 'I want to begin my beguine'! Bah!
Don’t you damned artists ever want to ‘get it on’? Bah!”
Mimi's tail is oscillating as she grimaces at me, growling with her lips drawn, displaying her large sharp white teeth.
Is Mimi going to bite me?
Mimi shakes her head and calms down from her sexual frustration. As she regains her composure, she flatly states.
“Okay, I guess my ‘play time’ is over, it is now time for me to get back to work and do my job. I’ll have you later, in your dreams, where you can’t resist me…”
Mimi drops her pose, calmly and slowly walks, with her hind hooves clopping on the hard tile of the kitchen floor. She is standing facing me as I am seated in the kitchen chair. I notice that my bathrobe has fallen open again. Mimi kneels and faces me, placing her black fore-legs down onto my bare thighs.
Is she going to ‘do me’ anyway? She is starting to ‘affect’ me, and she can see it!
Then I have a thrill of terror as she leans forward toward me, reveling her black neck ruff and ropy shoulder muscles. She is also exposing more of her thin, delicately featured chest.
Her long drooping ears swing forward as pendulums against the bulging jaw muscles of her cheeks that frame her large head and long snout. Even in the bright light of the kitchen, her features are so dark black that they are indistinct and difficult to see.
As I stare into her beautiful, hypnotizing, violet eyes with their black bars, Mimi suddenly appears as an alien monster. The black curls of her mane fall are glistening with an eerie, iridescent, sparkle in the kitchen lights. Mimi is kneeling before me in her true form: A black ‘chimera’, a legendary monster made up of both human and animal body parts. She appears as horrifying as an Australian aborigine's carving of a monster. I sigh, disappointed with myself.
Mimi looks like a hungry dragon. Is she about to open her jaws and swallow me whole?
“Mimi, have I surrendered to a minion of Hell?”
Mimi sees my distress, narrows her eyes and slyly grins, teasing,
“Would you like to meet my ‘boss’? Bah?”
Mimi’s thin black spade tail is slowly rocking back and forth behind her head, keeping the beat of a metronome. Mimi slowly raises her right fore-leg and reaches up over my face to my forehead. She extends a fore-hoof toe with its shiny black nail, glistening like a smooth black jewel in the kitchen lights.
She softly murmurs, returning to her odd bleating vernacular,
“Come hither, my renowned author of the future, and witness your destiny. Bah.”
I grimace and shudder.
“Mimi, is this going to hurt?”
Mimi rocks her body, slowly, and suggestively she continues to lean forward, towards me. I lean back in my chair as far as I can. Mimi gently touches the center of my forehead with her black fore-toe nail.
As Mimi winks her violet eye at me. Her wiggling curly black goatee on the chin of her long black goat face is the last thing that I see.
“See you later, my handsome artist. Don’t you worry, this won’t hurt me a bit, bah, haw, haw.”
I tightly close my eyes as my head explodes in the electrocution pain at the light touch of her fore-toenail on my forehead. I see flashes of intense color as I scream. My entire body experiences a strong electric shock and convulsions with a burst of severe pain. I clench my forearms to my chest as I pitch forward and double over, out of my chair. As I plunge into the black darkness of unconsciousness, I fall towards the kitchen floor that I never reach.
I scream as loud as I can,
“MIMI!”
End of Chapter 4. Muse – Part 2, Visitor.