Creativity's Grasp

By Libby Alley

I had been pacing across the ugly gray carpet floors of the airport. There was a steady rain outside the clear expansive windows, falling in thin sheets. The mashed-potato clouds in the sky were as muddled together as my thoughts. My sneakers and pink fuzzy socks itched and made my ankles hot. I meandered aimlessly back to my seat; I settled back down and my feet thanked me. The flight had been delayed an hour, leaving me time to write another boring article.

I wondered if my publishers could tell that I was a fake.

I opened my laptop and the screen bit into my eyes. 

I wondered if my readers knew I wasn’t a professional.

Instinctively, I opened Microsoft word.

I wondered if that was why I paced.

I began to type as slow and mechanically as a sputtering broken car engine, my mind feeling like the old car it’s attached to.

What did she say she wanted? Another weight loss one? 

“10 EASY WAYS TO FEEL COMFORTABLE IN YOUR BODY AGAIN.”

I bit my lip. Too bland.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick said the delete key as if it was mocking me.

Suddenly, thunder cracked like a whip against a horse, and the entire airport’s power diminished in a second. 

I released my lip from my teeth and lost my breath when I saw what was surrounding me. Purple heavenly light that streamed from the tall foggy windows formed a rectangular shape on the carpet. The light was a mix of all kinds of watercolor-like hues. The rain's flying pirouettes projecting directly onto the carpet. The white moon twinkled through it all, as if it was the main performer. 

A chill came across me, and I rubbed my goosebumpy arms. My mind became clear, my imagination was waking up. I looked down at the green, glow-in-the-dark keys, suddenly unaware of publishers and deadlines, only aware of my swirling and coursing thoughts being entertained by the moon and his dancers.

Creative energy is something that meets you halfway, and your job is to grab hold of it.

My fingers flew across the keys.