Calliope

The night is alive all around me. It's always been that way. Something dark, mysterious, and inviting. Always luring me deeper and deeper into its hidden secrets. I love walking the city streets, the later the better when everything is closed up and most sane people are sleeping. My footsteps echo and ring in the encompassing silence. It’s exciting, anything might happen. New vistas might appear and unique ideas emerge.

Even as a strange little kid, I would sometimes sneak into our backyard when my parents and siblings were asleep and stare up at the night sky wondering about the infinity of distance before me. How was it possible? Everything on earth had a beginning and an end yet the universe all around us stretched on forever? What kind of kid worries about such things anyway? So that’s where my love of the night started.

Later, when I took up writing as a side gig I resumed my nocturnal wanderings whenever the muse went missing. Luckily, my main job in computer technology allowed me a great deal of latitude in working from home around the hours I chose. I had been able to get a few non-fiction articles published in specialized magazines which fed my little ego but hardly brought in any money at all. Not that I needed the extra money but I did need the creative outlet.

So, tonight I’m walking down a residential street not far from my house with my dog along as an excuse for my wanderings. I had been stopped by the police before, and Zeke, my black lab certainly didn’t mind being my shield from suspicion. In fact, I had a suspicion that he loved the night as much as I did.

We are walking in a neighborhood of fairly expensive houses with large front lawns set back from the sidewalk. There’s a small breeze moving the limbs of the trees that line the street. It’s causing an ever moving pattern from the street lights evenly disbursed among the swaying leaves. Something is almost living in the moving air around me. Whispering to me in a language I don’t understand. Yet Zeke, with his superior dog hearing, seems unconcerned about the sound in the wind and much more interested in all the new smells it’s stirred up. He’s straining at his leash, pulling me forward. I pull back to slow him. Where’s he headed? I feel I should restrain him, but I’m here for a reason and maybe what Zeke is nose chasing might get me closer to inspiration. Closer to mystery and what the night might hide.

So, I ease up on his lease and let him lead me. He seems increasingly excited. We’re moving quicker now and the breeze is picking up. In spite of my many midnight walks, this feeling is something new. Previously, I’ve gotten ideas and worked through writers block with the help these night excursions. Now it’s a different feeling. What is it? Fear and anticipation are both there and something else as well.

I see her from about 30 yards away. Did she just appear or did I miss seeing her before? My heart is starting to pound even though she doesn’t seem threatening. To the contrary, even in the dim midnight light, her beauty seems to almost shine. Zeke is not barking of startled by her sudden appearance. In fact his tail is wagging as he pulls me towards her. She seems like someone I know or should know, but never met. I’m frightened yet entranced. I can’t look away from her. Then comes her smile, the one I’ve dreamed of. A sweet, teasing, and yet unearthly voice emerges.

“Hi Charlie, I’ve been waiting for you and your buddy Zeke”

Then she stoops to pet him. He’s loving it with tail thumping to beat the band. Like he’s known her for a thousand years.

“How do you know my name?” Is all I can manage to say through my conflicted emotions.

“Oh, I’ve always known you. I was the curiosity that drove you outside to gaze at the midnight sky when you were a boy and wondering what it was all about. Trying to understand what can’t be understood. I was there when you first discovered the joy of the written word. When you gave life to your first story. I am always here when you go on your night walks seeking a story. I am the electricity in the night air.”

“I still don’t understand what you're saying or why you seem so familiar.” My fear is fading but something else is setting in. As if something I always suspected is taking shape right in front of me, but still not possible. How do you fit the two together?

“I’m familiar because you’ve always known me without ever seeing me Charlie. I exist in the air you breathe and slip into the dreams you forget when you wake up. I’m the hope you feed on. I’m the woman who doesn’t exist.”

“But yet, here you are and I still don’t know you.”

“Yes, here I am. The great unknown. Do I have to spell it out Charlie? Or perhaps I should write it down for you to copy? You know me. You’ve been looking for me for quite a while now.” Then, she reaches out to touch my hand. It is a slight shock. Things are changing. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.”

The world is transforming before me. Nothing radical but subtle. The shades of the night are lighter and clearer. Sight and sound have more clarity while my sense of smell comes alive with the flowers in the yards of the houses all around. But it’s even more than that. My mind is alive in a way I’ve never felt before. Ideas, characters, story lines, and just the right words are swirling through my consciousness. I can’t wait to put them down on paper.

She leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. Leaning back and smiling she says in a teasing voice. “Do you know who I am now, Charlie?”

“Yes, I do. Thanks so much.” In spite of her beauty and my longing for her, I feel a need to hurry home. An urgency to start writing something already forming in my mind. Yet, I hesitate. Still holding her hand. Not wanting to leave.

“It’s alright Charlie. We’ll meet again, don’t worry. But now, I think you have some work to do.” She squeezes my hand and lets it go.

I hesitate for a moment drinking in her beauty and smile. Then I know who she is. “Goodbye Calliope. I’ll use your gift well”

“Goodbye Charlie. Till me meet again.”

My walk home is a blur because my mind is racing with ideas. Once in the door, I rush to my laptop. I feel like doing something I have not attempted before but sense it just might be the right time to try my hand at poetry.

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