50-Word Stories #4 – The Muse

woman sunset photography silhouette

When his muse died, the poet was heartbroken.

He drank, he wrote verses, but found no comfort.

One night he sneaked into the cemetery.

He broke into her tomb and stole her urn.

It was past the witching hour when the poet ate his muse, one spoonful at a time.


Some of you may remember that a while back I used to publish 50-word stories. Here is a selection of some of my best. I also gathered them in a book – grab it on Amazon.uk or Amazon.us.

 

 

 

 

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10 thoughts on “50-Word Stories #4 – The Muse

    1. I doubt that it will spare him from indigestion, though. And if we burn black and white photos, won’t the ash resemble the substance of the muse? ‘Poetry is just the evidence of life,’ says Leonard Cohen. ‘If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.’

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