The Cost of Inspiration

The slowest means of travel would suit him just fine, if he did say so himself. Everyone's desire to go, go, go. It was nonsense anyway, what's the rush? Speeding to the edge of the cliff just to cry out for more time once you're pulled down into the abyss? Pure nonsense. 

That's how he saw it, anyway. He sat and watched the rush of worn out sneakers slip against the rain soaked cement and thin heels break under the pressure. "Such a hurry."

The heat had become unbearable. There was no choice but to run, or be consumed by the flames. Chairs came crashing through windows. Flames pushed through halls and down the stairs. Screams were barely heard over approaching sirens. No time to stop, only run. Keep running. Outrun the flames. The pain. It's fast, so be faster. Keep running.

The man let out a slow breath, and collapsed his eyelids, centering himself around the wind and the rain. His heart slowed to a gentle rhythm, as if it'd never beat any faster before. He sat on the hood of a car parked nearby and watched the horror display before him. 

"Can't say it isn't entertaining at least." The man sighed at the minor calamity displayed before him.

"Do you always watch this?"

"Oh, you're still here?" He tipped the rim of the stark black hat down over his eyes and smiled at the guest accompanying him this time around. She clutched the black leather book in her hands and looked on as the destruction was allowed to continue. 

She felt that soon she'd be struck down for her greed and ignorance by a stray lightning bolt or a speeding ambulance. Something poetic or something dramatic for sure, but it'd come for her. It'd just be a matter of time. 

"Well, a deal's a deal." The lengthy man held out his hand to the woman, only to see her body frozen in place. Reluctantly, he reached down and grabbed the end of the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. A firm shake was made, "So, what shall you do now? Who knows how much time you have left." 

Time, was that how it all started? Just wanting more time? Or was it the money? The money was good, and money could buy time in a way. With money you could afford to do anything you wanted. 

But how had it come to this…?

"I don't know, I just thought it looked cool." She laughed and showed the notebook to everyone else in the video call. Its white exterior was decorated in a gold finish, with gold lining the pages on the inside. While her friends scoffed at yet another impulse buy, she couldn't stand to have it away from her. Not with how much it cost. "I really like the texture too. It feels like leather, kinda. But it's nice and cool to the touch and,"

"It's cold because you haven't written in it yet. You never write in the notebooks you buy!" The blonde in the corner laughed while her display of crisp books sat on the bookshelf behind her. 

"Oh you're one to talk, when was the last time you even read a book?" 

"That's different! Completely different, in fact. My books are already finished. I can read them whenever. Besides mine don't cost as much as yours." She laughed.

Setting the book down on her desk, she noticed the time on the computer. "Ugh geez, okay guys I gotta go. It's two o'clock here already."

"Oh wow," the only guy in the friend group coughed on his ramen broth and set the cup of noodles down, "not used to the time change yet. Get some sleep girlie!"

The blonde nodded in agreement, "Totally, good luck with your not-going-to-get-used notebook." 

"I'll use it! I just can't waste it, what if I write a story in it that I never finish?"

"Then finish it?" The woman who'd gone the whole call without so much as glancing away from her portable console chimed in. 

"Easy for you to say. Between my job and worrying about bills I've got too much going on to even consider writing anything."

"Excuses. Go to sleep."

"Fine, fine, good night guys!" The laggy videos and delayed goodbyes ended eventually. Soon she was left alone in her room with stacks of notebooks and bags of colorful pens. Artificial plants lined her windowsill, the real ones had proven too daunting to care for.

She pushed her chair and wheeled over to the bed, admiring the glory of the crisp pages and the newly printed smell. It'd be easy to grace its pages with a beginning. She toyed with the ideas of kings and knights, time traveling cowboys, cosmic entities who oversaw the end of the world, anything that came in her mind was a potential success. Two o'clock in the morning seemed to be the hour for inspiration no matter the time zone. 

She twisted the slick black pen in her hands and laid across her bed with the book. But work made her eyelids heavy now, it wouldn't be long before another night shift. The neighbors upstairs were still too loud despite the numerous complaints. She went to the kitchen and made a mug of hot chocolate, it'd expired surely but she wouldn't tell anyone. She sat on the toilet and watched internet influencers eat food with high quality microphones near their mouths—

"Wait, what was I doing?" She got up and found herself in her room again, seeing the notebook peacefully laid on her bed. 

The notebook was gorgeous, too gorgeous in fact. Far too beautiful to stain with boring thoughts and lack luster characters. It'd take time to make a story beautiful enough to grace its pages.

She reached over and pulled out the trusty book in her nightstand. It's what gave her time to craft the arcs to stories that never started. It gave her time to make lists of names for characters she hoped to use one day. The book was the key, the key to her happiness, the key to her success, the maker and destroyer of worlds. It was all here. Here inside this thick black notebook. 

"Again so soon, Little One?" 

"Yes again, I'm sorry." She sighed and clutched the book to her chest. "I just need more money for something."

"How much more?" A voice hummed and let out a slow drawn out breath. 

"Well," she cracked open the book, finding old pencil marks hardly legible anymore, "just a little more." As she carefully flipped, she passed by ledgers and notes from previous sales. Each page became more and more clear to read as she flipped through, until reaching the end, where the ink never faded. "Besides, you aren't exactly short on cash, right?"

"Ah, that is true." In the reflection of her computer monitor she caught sight of the looming slender figure doting a brimmed hat and a pressed suit. Even after all this time, he was still here. "Well then Little One, how much is it worth to you?" 

"I'm just looking for a couple hundred dollars." She turned and smiled at the man behind her. It seemed he was just as disappointed that his sudden presence could no longer frighten her as it'd done before.

The man was silent for a long moment, her smile didn't waver, "How about this, I am willing to give you twenty grand so long as you agree to take it." 

"... Are you serious?"

"Yes. Twenty grand. After all, didn't you say a few hundred dollars here and there just doesn't last long enough for you to be able to sit down and write?" Little One nodded eagerly and as assuredly as when she thought him offering a few hundred was incredibly generous. "I'm willing to give you twenty thousand dollars, in exchange for some of the Earth's life."

He looked to the book and saw she was writing it down before he had a chance to intervene. Her pen twirled and noted down the deal: for twenty thousand dollars to spend however she wished, the end of the world would be brought ever loser.

Tall One looked to her, "You understand once the world ends, even if the money you gained isn't all the way spent, you too will perish regardless?"

"I am aware. I've been doing this for a long time remember?" She nodded in agreement and allowed the deal to reach its end. "If I had that money, I wouldn't need to work all the time and could finally focus."

Tall One chuckled, "Fine. Twenty grand is yours, Little One. But to send an entire world of life closer to its demise so quickly for your inspiration, will you be able to live with it?"

Her eyes curled into a smile, her cheeks now void of color. "You know my position, and what I stand to gain. If the world is ending due to the awakening of some eldritch horror or a giant asteroid slamming into the surface, then it's happening regardless. I'm not making the world end, I'm not… I'm just letting it happen a bit quicker."

"I see. Then let us see what happens."

And so together, they saw.

Little One joined him on the hood of the car and watched the carnage. 

"Is this the end of the world?" She leaned over and asked him. 

"No, not yet. But give it time, even little events like this add up. Oh, has the money been transferred yet?" 

She felt a buzz on her hip, the bank notifying the transfer of funds no doubt. She nodded, there was no rush anymore from seeing big sums of money hit her account like how there used to be. "Yep… So, are you going to tell me how it ends?"

"Hm? The world you mean?"

"Yea. Do we just go up in flames? Do zombies start roaming the world? Is it the floods or the tornadoes or earthquakes?" 

"All very creative. I can't tell you, for knowing even just a hint of an idea of how it will end will drive madness into a human. 

"Sounds like you don't know either."

"I... I most certainly do. Just give it time, besides you should focus on that book you want to finish and not matters such as this."

Little One shut her eyes and focused on her breathing. The sirens wailing faded to the sound of wind chimes. The smell of toxic smoke came with a touch of hickory. The screams were followed by children running in the yard. A mom reading a magazine didn't look up from the latest weight loss fad. A dad was drinking bourbon while managing the grill. Aunties compared horror stories from their ex-husbands after they drank. 

She opened her eyes and saw the neighbors in her new neighborhood. Another move, this time to a suburban landscape. Her attempts at finding inspiration in her plant covered studio apartment didn't do the wonders she'd hoped. But here? Surely here in the friendly atmosphere and warm sunlight something would emerge.

She sat on the bed and put the pen to the dazzling white notebook. Twenty grand made rent a mere sticky note on the back of her mind. Twenty grand didn't even flinch when she restocked her fridge again. It'd finally let her create.

The kids in the yard across the street continued their loud games. The air conditioner roared to life at random times as she focused on the paper. Someone had a dog trying to scare off a passerby getting too close to the fence. 

Her heavy footsteps creaked on the new wooden floorboards as she got off her bed. Her bright phone screen illuminated her bored eyes as she sat on the toilet. It was here her vacant mind would remain, until a good story would come to her. 

It was a shame there was no money exchange for inspiration.