Inspired

She was my greatest inspiration but she was out of reach. I live in worlds made of words, hers is much more beautiful.

Based on Use Somebody - Kings of Leon.

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1. Inspired

Some days, it is the streets that offer me the most inspiration. Their beauty is the raw kind, they allow me to see all that they are. They allow me to see a side of the city I would never know otherwise. As I roam through the alleys I see them wandering together, often drunken, often happy, always beautiful. They laugh gaily without a care as they visit the many bars and nightclubs that fill this part of town. I find it hard not to wish that I was one of them but I know that I am not and that, for the perceivable future, I will never be. A group of young girls passes me. Not wanting them to see me, I turn away. One of them stops and smiles my way, tilting her head in order to see me better. I wait for the gasp. Maybe she will even scream; some of the women do. To my surprise, she just smiles a little less brightly and puts her hand out towards me. “Hi, my name’s Clare. And yours?” Looking up from the floor, I almost gasp myself. She was even more beautiful than I had expected. Her short red hair fell softly around her face and almost over her eyes - it made me want to brush it away, just so that I could touch her. I took her hand to shake it and tried to sound normal. “Michael.” I told her. It had been a while since anybody had asked. Her smile brightened again and rather than let go of my hand, she pulled me towards where her friends were going. “Come on.” She said “Take a walk on the wild side.” Honestly, there was nothing in the world I would have rather done at that moment but it was too light and I’m not the type of person that can just do that. “Sorry.” I pulled my hand away gently. “I can’t. Maybe next time.” Her face fell but then she smiled once again. “I’ll hold you to that.” She laughed and then she was gone. I felt like I could breathe again and as I walked home, stories span through my mind.   Although it had been a strange day, it had certainly been worth it for all of the inspiration I was able to take from it. The only problem was that every time I wrote, she would be woven tightly into the story. New characters with short crimson hair and a smile so bright would slip into the scenes as though they were intended to be there. I tried desperately to be rid of her from my mind but the truth was that she was the greatest inspiration I had ever had. The only option I had was to use her and when I realised this, suddenly it all fit into place. By the time I went to bed I had written more words than had in a month, all about a girl I could not get out of my head, a girl that I had to see again. As I lay in bed waiting for the dreams of adventure and intrigue and worlds I’d never know, the only world that I could seem to imagine was the one that was happening just a few blocks away. I imagined her dancing the night away as she inevitably was and my heart soared at the thought of me dancing with her. There would definitely be a next time.   Days went by and all I could see in my mind were her haunting eyes. I wanted to see them again for real but I couldn’t bring myself to stop writing. It was as if the words were a never ending stream flowing right out of my mind and onto the page. Stopping them might mean the channel would never open up again. After a week I had little choice. The yearning for her and the chance of something different and new was too great for me not to chase it. I found her more or less in the same place I had seen her before. She was stood in the street with a fag in her hand. She scanned the street as though she was looking for something and when she saw me coming, she smiled. After dropping the cigarette and stamping it out, she made her way over to me. “Michael. You kept me waiting.” She tutted and waggled her finger at me. I smiled awkwardly back at her and as she walked away towards the club, I followed her. The room was not the smoky hovel I had expected. In all of my dreams and all of my stories, the clubs and bars always suffocated lungs with their clouds of smoke. Here though, the air was clear and as we approached Clare’s friends we were able to see each other clearly. They saw my scars and I saw their shocked expressions. Clare wasn’t at all fazed and she led me easily to the round booth and sat down so that we were across from each other. She introduced everyone, telling me a little about each of her friends, but I was hardly listening. I was mesmerised. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that they were almost white. They shone as she spoke. Because of this I could see my own hideous face reflected amongst their beauty and most times, it hurt just to glimpse at them. I loved them none the less. Suddenly she looked at me expectantly. “Go ahead Michael, introduce yourself.” I did and answered the question they were all asking as I did so. “I’m Michael and I’ve had these scars…” I indicated the marks that covered my face “… since I was nine years old. That, is all you need to know.” I smiled at their now almost blank expressions and at Clare’s ever cheery one. I don’t know what I had expected but I’m sure that, in some part, I had hoped that Clare would at least be surprised. Without warning, she stood up and held her hand to me. “Do you want to dance Michael?” It was probably just a way to ease the tension but I hoped that she actually did want to dance with me just as I desperately wanted to dance with her. I took her hand and she led me out onto the dance floor that was littered with  writhing  bodies. In truth, I’m sure it can't be classed as dancing with her, it was more like dancing near her but completely separate. But in my mind it  didn't  matter. It was this separation that meant I didn’t notice when she moved away from me. It was subtle but by the time I had noticed she was already wandering  out onto the street with another guy. At first I  couldn't  comprehend what I was seeing.  This of course was what I should have expected from the start. She couldn’t love me, my face. It was stupid to believe that she might. The boy she was with was just one of the countless lovers she could have at a moment’s notice and she was just one of his. My lovers, on the other hand, only exist in the stories I write. I didn’t even turn back once as I left the club. I doubt anyone even noticed that I left and if they did they were probably grateful.     It was months later when I saw her again and when I did, I was looking for her. “Michael?” She recognised me immediately. Well, I do have quite distinctive looks. “Hey Clare.” I smiled at her but she just frowned lightly at me. “What are you doing here?” She asked. Clearly she wasn’t feeling quite as warm towards me as she used to. “I came to give you this.” I held out a bound package and as soon as she took it, I turned away and left despite her calls. The package held my nights and days since I’d last seen her. I had poured everything into that tale. Her tale.  It wasn’t award winning. I just hoped that it would make her notice... someone like me.
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