Fiction Short Story

The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Fiction Short Story

by M.L. Bushman

Equal To The Sum Of Its Parts

"I thought I put you away," said the Writer as she sped down the freeway in her blue sedan.

"Now, baby, you know you can't do that." Ego ran a hand through his thick hair. "Without me, b you won't dream about the future. You know—the hardcover novels, the six figure advances, the movie deals. You wouldn't have the guts to think about it. I'm the one who knows you're better than mid-list, even though you don't want to listen." He tapped his broad chest. "It's all right here, baby. I make it happen."

The Writer stared at him. "You're way out of control."

A frightened expression swept his face. "You planning on having an accident? Watch where you're going!"

She eyeballed the road through the cracked windshield, then jerked the steering wheel to the left. Tires squealed as the old car veered back into the center lane.

"Both of you are dead without me," said a sultry voice behind them.

Ego turned to gaze at Self Esteem seated in the backseat. A smile lit his face. "Ah, there's my girl. Bring your snazzy self up here so I can get my arm around you."

She materialized to his left and he slipped his arm around her to pull her close. The Writer frowned when he planted a big kiss on Self Esteem's lips. He grew larger until she passionately responded to become his equal once more.

The Writer pressed the accelerator. "Get a room," she said under her breath.

A baby's cry erupted. She glanced at the rear view mirror. Doubt lay in the middle of the backseat, her delicate jaw quivering in her bid for attention.

Rapid-fire honking snapped the Writer's attention back to the highway. She yanked the steering wheel to the right and swerved across the white line into her own lane. Through a hazy window, she scowled at the driver of a red Chevy Camaro who flipped her the bird as he raced by on the left.

Ego wrinkled his nose in disgust. "And why is Doubt here? I think she needs a diaper."

"Maybe we need some checks and balances in our life," said the Writer. They zipped past a slow-moving station wagon as she lowered her window an inch. "You're right though, Doubt stinks."

"You're not feeding her again, are you?" asked Self Esteem indignantly. "Did you forget? She was so big once, she could hardly get in the car. She really stunk then."

Ego glanced at the Writer and nodded while Self Esteem continued. "I used to be so tiny, smaller than Doubt is now. And you kept poor Ego locked down like he was some kind of prisoner. Don't you remember? When Doubt was in charge, she let Fear run rampant." She frowned. "I hate Fear. I'm glad she's gone most of the time now."

Self Esteem glanced at the Writer. "You have to admit it's been a much better life now that I decide who's allowed to run free and who isn't."

Ego gave her the eye. "Ooooh, baby. I'm in love."

"Will you knock that off?" cried the Writer. "You two get any bigger and I'll have to get rid of you both."

"You can't do that." The deep, melodious voice of the Muse surprised her. Seated directly behind her, he smiled as he met her stare through the rear view mirror.

"You need Ego and Self Esteem," he said. "You won't even try to publish without them and then what good is every night we spend together? Sure, it's fun and you know I won't leave you, but you need them, too. They let you know you can do this. Besides, do you really want to go back to the way you were before they matured?"

Ego laughed out loud and slapped his knee. "You can't argue with that."

"No writer argues with their muse," said Self Esteem with a grin.

"Not this one anyway." The Writer tromped the accelerator. "I want to get published some day."

"Oh, you will," said Ego. "Not a doubt in my mind."

"Don't you think you should slow down?" asked Common Sense. Seated next to the Muse, she cradled the shrinking Doubt.

"Maybe you ought to listen to Common Sense." Ego twirled a lock of Self Esteem's hair in his fingers. "You're exceeding the speed limit, you know." He chuckled as he shrugged one shoulder. "Ah, what the heck. I know you can handle it."

"She can do anything," said Self Esteem.

"You two make Doubt disappear every time," said Common Sense, with a smile and wink at the handsome Muse.

A siren blared to life. The Writer glanced at the rear view mirror. Blue flashing lights knotted her stomach. The cry of an infant ricocheted through the car.

"That's just great," said Common Sense. "Now Fear is here. I told you to slow down."

"Would you shut up?" The Writer eased her car through traffic to the breakdown lane where she slowed to a stop. The patrol car parked behind her.

She frowned at the empty seats beside and behind her now. "Deserters," she muttered.

Dread churned her innards while she waited for the patrolman to advance through the blue clouds of smoke that chugged from the tailpipe of her car.

The Writer rolled down her window and attempted a smile. "Yes, Officer?"

"Driver's license and registration please."

After she handed him the required documentation, he glanced at her license and said, "Ma'am, I clocked you at eighty-five miles an hour. Mind telling me what you thought you were doing?"

The Writer sighed. "Just talking to myself, I guess."

Copyright © 2004 M.L. Bushman

About the Author
M.L. Bushman makes her home in Great Falls, Montana. She has just started work on her seventh novel, fourth in a series. Her credits include short stories and one nonfiction article. For a wealth of information of interest to writers, check out the writing links page of her website at http://www.mlbushman.com.