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The Death of Inspiration (standard:horror, 516 words)
Author: jopoguerreroAdded: Jul 22 2008Views/Reads: 1802/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)

Once upon a time, Inspiration was a person  not a mere opinion or
notion or impression. 

In fact, she was a very beautiful woman: with a face so angelic and a
body so magnetic. And oh, she smelled of a bath of flowers, so sweet 
and fresh that even the grumpiest of all beings would swoon at her 
slightest whiff. 

Inspiration was not only physically gifted. She was also a fount of
virtues  kindness, humility, patience, charity, purity and all other 
blessings of intrinsic worth. 

Yes, Inspiration was heavenly, inside and out. Yet, she died a horrible

Inspiration lived in Independence, a small village on top of a ridge
which was inhabited by a handful of families. 

The residents of Independence strictly lived an unwritten policy of to
each his own  they took care of their own family; they watched over 
their own livelihood; they strengthened their own house; and they 
minded their own business. 

Since Inspiration lived alone in her house, she felt the brunt of such a
cold-shoulder culture  well, she had pets and plants, but she wanted 
to talk to humans for a change. Thus, she seriously tried to reach out 
to her neighbors. 

But, Inspiration failed. 

When she talked to the men, the women called her slut. When she talked
to the women, the men called her a cause of sloth. When she talked to 
the children, the parents called her witch. When she tried to sup with 
the families, they accused her of gluttony. Eventually, her neighbors 
decided to keep their doors and windows locked all day and all night to 
get rid of Inspiration's socialization attempts. 

However, Inspiration was relentless. She kept on coming back, kept on
knocking, kept on ignoring insults and kept on communicating. 

One late afternoon, while again searching for someone to talk to, a
couple of big wolves from nowhere madly and devilishly rushed toward 

It was no use to run - it would just force them to increase their speed.
Inspiration shouted for help. No door opened. She cried for help. Not a 
window gaped. She pleaded for help. Not a soul responded. 

The wolves reached Inspiration with frothing fangs. And in just half a
moment, they furiously pinned her on the ground. Blood spurted as the 
animals riotously gnawed her head, face, neck and limbs. Inspiration 
died watching pieces of herself being interred in the bellies of the 

The beasts were still slumped dining on Inspiration when the people
finally decided to check on what was happening  shock enveloped the 
people of Independence. They tried to recover what was left of her, but 
the wolves dragged and brought the body with them back to the hills. 

The violent death of Inspiration sank deep in the minds of the people of
Independence. And in order to wash off their guilt, they made special 
offerings to her lost spirit  offerings in all forms of skills, 
competence and talents. 

But even in our time, despite the mountains of offerings made by
hundreds of generations, man still suffers the guilt for the death of 


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