Inner Battle

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The shaper of minds assigns a new project, one to challenge and intrigue her students so apt to such a task as this. Now sitting in front of the computer, the quiet one wait for inspiration she is sure to come. Nothing. She was positive something would dredge itself up from the depths of her mind and present itself with ingenious glory worthy of being expanded upon and written down for others to marvel in its triumph. All of those eloquent words remain hidden in her head, but no, it does not daunt Morgan from her mission.
The cursor blinks back at her, almost challenging the resolve in those eyes. Minutes crawl along, fading into the nothing from which they originated. All the while, the studious girl sits at her desk willing any inspiration to strike. Finally a few creep into her mind, but are quickly discarded as horrendous things that could capture no one’s imagination, lifting a person up to soar through the world created by only a few little insignificant words. Clash on clash, the deafening roar of failure resounds, reverberating off of every corner of the mind. No! Defeat in not inevitable. A born fighter, master of her own thoughts, she will climb victorious from the demons of self doubt trying to drag her to a point of almost complete annihilation. Battles rage for hours upon hours, seeming to continue on until the end of time. Finally, like a shining beacon of hope, a single thought arises and presents itself out of the turmoil and chaos that has been building for so long, bubbling over to other aspects of her performance as well. As Morgan lunges to grab it in all its glorious luster before it disappears and is lost, everything else around it seems to fade to obscurity, leaving only the muse to assist her in a quite challenging task.
Now with the idea, it is time to start on her journey of shaping it into something to be envious of. Fingers fly across the keyboard in hopes of recording a shred of the pure brilliance trapped within the locked kingdom of conscious thought. Even with the story teller writing the thought into existence with almost no effort, not all of it makes it onto the page. Mere trifles of the original seem to find their home on the blank white sea that absorbs all of Morgan’s words.
Still she tries fiercely to be seen through her work and present an idea worthy of being read by her cohorts rampaging around the institution of learning. Down to the deadline now, no more time to write. She flies through the last of the strenuous project as a smile spreads upon her face. Glorious triumph, sweet victory, at last it is completed and ready to assault the minds of the masses. The pages glide through the printer as the finish score develops into a reality. The only action left to be taken is bestow the final product to the encourager of thoughts, but now apprehension grows in the pit of her stomach and the demons come back for a second round. She has slayed them once and come out on top, surely she can do it again. No more time to doubt, that is now put in the past to be forgotten. Looking forward, she gathers courage around her to protect her as a shield and relinquishes her qualms to those trying to tear down the spirit, and raises herself above to be the protector of all her thoughts.





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