"The place where the world stopped was not so strange, but the vertigo was overwhelming. The girl could not decide whether or not it would be wise to jump." The Magistrate droned on, any edge of human feeling muted in the endless onslaught of data.
"Before she could make her choice, however, the ground dissolved beneath her..." Seth blinked away the itchy film of eyes that had glazed over. This was his case, and he ought to focus on defending himself. What was the point though? No one was ever found innocent, not in Creative Court.
"Her decision made for her; she drifted off into death peacefully. She now knew the choices were never hers to begin with." Here Magistrate Reiter paused, a critical eye slicing through Seth's resolve. Every other muse told him this day would come, it's best not to work at all, they had assured him.
Reiter shuffled the papers on his massive desk, its expanse like a wall against any hope Seth might have, elevated on the platform opposite him. A shield of gleaming cedar, forced to look up to meet Reiter's eyes; futile. Object! Every fiber of his being screamed.
A swell of courage filled Seth's pockets, his shoulders adjusted in the wave of confidence it ushered in. The past was not the marker for what was possible in the future, maybe other muses had given up... He wouldn't. Whatever Reiter was going to say, he wouldn't let it shake him.
"We have reason to believe that this is not a cut and dry case of inspiration gone awry, Seth." His eyes were glassy in the light that shone upon his stage. Untouchable in his nest of bureaucracy. Seth couldn't help but to feel as if he were talking to a floating head, Reiter a hologram of hilarity. He never had the smallest scrap of a chance, yet it felt brilliant!
His joy escapes like horses onto open land, galloping across the court to vault the elevated desk. Logic chases like a distressed cowboy in the face of abandon, Seth throws his hands up as if to stop it all, but it is too late. All the better, for he cannot stop laughing. His mousy visage comes to life, highlighting the gold of his hair and the spark in his eye.
Reiter grimaces in the symphony of sound, remembering his disdain for the practice. His reaction is swift, drowning out the racket in the hammer of his gavel. "Enough!" he roars, breathless. As if Seth has assaulted him, he adjusts himself, glaring. Seth sucks reality in between pursed lips, calming the feeling but keeping the flow. Reiter, like a ruffled bird above, speaks.
"Your amusement will be noted in the file sent forward. You stand accused of seed sharing." Reiter glowered; his air of superiority restored. Crud, Seth squirmed. This was not good at all.
The highest of offenses, seed sharing was banned due to madness in the 17th century. Art had gone too far, those in power stated, muses must operate on a one-on-one basis moving forward. Those caught inspiring groups were subject to the nastiest of punishments.
The law had sent most of his kind into hiding, only venturing out when boredom became unbearable. "Objection!" Seth cried. This was corrupted, untrue! "I have not breached the seed sharing laws! This work was an isolated inspiration!" Reiter received his words with a sickening smile, sending a cold chill down Seth's spine.
"Do you care to explain this passage, then?" Reiter's voice is low, a predator who knows dinner is near. He lifts a paper and begins to read, and Seth feels the oxygen leave the room.
To be continued...
This is my submission for Dreem-WOTW S2-R3, a fun writing event hosted by the one and only Dreemport! Our goal was to write half of a story for this round, and then pass it on to a partner to finish. Being totally insufferable, I wanted part 1 to be a surprise to my partner.
@itsostylish ๐
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