Monday's Gift (A Slightly Older Fiction Story I Wrote)

          "Would it be beautiful? Would it turn out well?", questions that plagued the mind and heart of a burdened and tired soul. Looking and staring intently into the void, among an environment devoid of color surrounded by the ordinary and everyday of an old building in an old part of town. Minutes turned to hours, then this became a day. A day of empty, of nothing, of confusion and frustration that weighed heavily upon the soul of this creator. She would look, start to paint, and before anything reached the canvas her brush would stop. This was the block, where a change was soon to follow that was not expected within her, one that would come from the most unexpected of places.

         At this point she began to see another, slowly at first, then he manifest and began speaking with her. She almost screamed, but wondered if she was simply hallucinating somehow; she wasn't. "What is troubling you?", he'd ask her. "I am unable to create.", she'd say in reply. At this the mysterious figure would walk around to the other side of the canvas then look into the blank space we're opportunities still awaited and he began to think on this setback she now faced. Here, everything would change.

         "Try this.", he'd say, giving her ideas as she looked at the canvas. "Do it this way.", he'd say. At these moments she'd listen, following his instructions. He didn't know about her abilities, only about possibilities. She didn't know this strange figure of a man, one who seemed to appear out of nowhere, but she was willing to try almost anything to create something new, so she followed him and listened.  "Don't focus on results, focus on the craft.", he'd tell her as he aided her. At this she listened, listened as she created . At this she simply let it all flow, she simply let his instructions guide her, his influence, his encouragement bringing the needed motivation and inspiration she was desperate for: to make something beautiful from nothing. "Let the pressure motivate you, not break you." , he'd say to her. In this moment the one that once stopped her became the very one that propelled her forward to further create and perfect the very thing that seeked to stop her before: the expectation to create SOMETHING, instead of ANYTHING. 

          Together they'd work, he instructing and she following his instructions. Minutes went by, then hours passed and something emerged from the void of empty white space. It was beautiful! It was masterful, this new way and new result from the two now working together; working where before there was only one. It was a new piece of art from the block of creativity breaking within such a burdened one: a troubled painter only wanting to create. At the completion of such a remarkable endeavor, the man disappeared to her shock. In his departure, he spoke one last thing as the words echoed off in his disappearance and exit, "I am Monday, and you can do this! I look forward to creating with you again next week". This was Monday's gift of productivity, a normally unwelcome day showing how valuable he truly was.

Note About This Piece: The fiction story "It Takes a Whole Week" I wrote (see the post It Takes A Whole Week) was written from a prompt to create a story where every day of the week is given a personality and how that connects with a person's life. That was one of the hardest stories I've ever written. When submitting it, someone suggested I further narrow it down and do the same thing with ONE day of the week. I've done it twice, this was the better of the two; in this case I used Monday.

Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!