Classless. Uninspiring. Stale.
Lia stared at the words on her computer screen. Hot tears pooled in her eyes nearly blinding her. Furiously, she blinked them away, allowing the words to sink. The comments on her recently published story had been terrible, some of them even far worse than the comment she was currently focusing on, but somehow those three words were what finally made Lia Adams crumble.
She knew that she’d been losing her touch the last few years since her last publication and after three years of extending deadlines and promises upon promises to her publisher, she’d finally gotten around to releasing the story she’d written. She knew it was terrible even as she sent it in to be edited and published. Her editor and friend, Grace, knew it too. She’d asked Lia if she was sure this was okay to be published three times. Three.
She saw a ping on her phone and grabbed it frantically, grateful for the distraction.
Can you not look at your phone today, or for the rest of this week if you can?
It was from Grace. The sweet soul.
Too late, Gracie. She typed back. Too late.
Lia took one final look at her computer screen. She knew these three words would be the source of her nightmares and the bane of her existence for years to come. Writers had many fears but your work being called classless, uninspiring and even worse, stale, had to be among top three nightmares. And hers had just come to life.
Closing her laptop with a grunt, Lia ambled to her kitchen in search of water to quench her parched throat. It had been about three hours since she woke up but it felt like she’d aged a thousand years since then.
“What in the world?” Lia said as she scanned her refrigerator. Except for a can of tuna which she was almost certain had surpassed its expiry date, there was absolutely nothing there. What kind of life was she living?
“You just hate me, don’t you?” she said looking heavenward.
With an overwhelming feeling of dejection, she slumped on the freezer and stared into nothingness for the next few minutes. Her phone pinged again, startling her from her reverie.
Had she just been having suicidal thoughts?
She chuckled bitterly to herself. That would make a good story. “Writer Couldn’t Take Fans’ Constructive Criticism. Ends Her Miserable Life.” It was a nice line but she knew no one would pity her even then. So what was the use?
She looked at her phone. It was another text from Grace. With an attachment this time.
I know you said not to worry about you but you really need time away. I’d been saving for this private nature retreat but I know you need it more. No people. Just you, nature and a writing pad maybe? I’ve sent all the details in the attachment. Just say you’ll come okay?
She saw another text sent almost immediately after.
P.S: Don’t try to call me to say that I shouldn’t have bothered. As soon as I send this last text, I’m switching off my phone. Love you, Hun!
Lia opened the attachment and saw the beauties of the private island. It was truly a nature retreat with diverse flowers, including rose bushes that stretched for miles, its very own waterfall and everything in between. It was almost too good to be true. Could she dare hope?
Lia looked around her messy apartment and how worthless her life had become, validated by those three words.
Classless. Uninspiring. Stale.
Her mind was made up.
Lia stood by the balcony of her room. The resort was beyond chick. Just how much had Grace spent to secure this place? She made a mental note in her head for the thousandth time. She was forever indebted to her friend.
Taking her notepad from the dressing table, she left the resort and wandered off into the deeper parts of the island. The burst of colours was overwhelming. The chirping of the birds was even livelier than she was used to in the city, that is on the rare occasions she saw birds. Pausing by a boulder, she sat down and flipped her notepad to a fresh page. And then, she waited.
Thirty minutes later and Lia became restless. Where was the fresh burst of inspiration she was supposed to have? Where were the zings from dawning realization as her creative muse roused from her sleep after three years?
One hour later and she became desperate. Should she call Grace? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that Lia was already disappointed in the retreat?
“Oh God, why do I feel so hopeless?”
Just then, she heard a sound from the distance. The chirpings of a bird, but there was something different about this one. It sounded like the bird was singing a song. Grabbing her notepad, she followed the sound. Slowly, she walked. Past bright lilac bushes and daisies, all wild and free. She quietened her thoughts and listened for the bird who sang such a happy and soulful tune.
And then she saw it.
A brightly coloured robin resting on a branch, surrounded by flowers. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The flowers still held droplets of due on them that added to their ethereal look. Lia was enraptured and she found herself sitting down on the bed of flowers. Silent as she listened to the Robin that hadn’t stopped singing even in her presence.
The feeling came then. A flowing sensation of peace as she found herself drowning in the sights and sounds around her.
Was this how it felt?
To be one with nature?
Her mind’s eye opened then to see her muse stretching from her formerly comatose position. She’d been reborn.
Images created with NightCafe Studio.
