I can’t say anything.
You caught me red handed.
The man standing there with a wooden chest ready to die; yup, that is me.
Half-human girls with the bottom half being out of various animals legs: Muses are their names; they’re holding out bows and arrows all pointing at me. Their distinct emerald green eyes are staring into my very being; visualizing, all the ways they can torture me. Their beautiful long hair makes me forgot that I’m about to face my demise.
The very same hair that caused them to become guarded and wicked in their way of life. Hunted by poachers; to make the best wigs for the most prestigious of royalty. They were once known for their tender, hospitable and benignant society; only after years of poachers taking advantage of their wholesomeness, did they change to what they are now. This society of females that sharpen their teeth with clam shells to eat the guts of any intruder. While, growing out their horns, filing them against boulders, so they can gouge their enemies hearts and turn it into an accessory.
No one dares to provoke them anymore. No Muse is ever alone. They stay close like a pack of wolves. Many poachers tell the stories of how in the past they were enchanted by their heavenly voices; only to be saved by the sudden realization, someone else has already found them. Old former poachers tell countless legends of how their fellow friends have fallen to the muses after following their songs. In all stories and legends they all agree that their voices, are of a legendary pitch that even God would be memorized.
In the present times, these Muses, eat out the hearts of anybody who dares to enter their territory. They do not sing or speak anymore. Only screams, deafening anyone nearby, alerting the other Muses, that someone is here.
So why am I here surrounded by them right now, holding a wooden box?
Well I’m going to die so I might as well tell you.
It all started when I went to the bar with my friends. They were chatting up a storm, about their jobs and how they loved it and were making so much money and blah blah blah. I, you can say was jealous, so I told them that I had to go do something and left. I walked back to my den but on the way back, the local crazy person said “yo loser want some excitement in your life”. I paid him no mind because that is what he does; yell at people. But…
He yelled “that’s why all your friends laugh at you”. He touched a nerve. I turned around ready to fight the man. He dropped a piece of paper when I grabbed him. “Give it back!” he yelled. I snatched it from the ground and saw a map with a red x on it. “What is this? You rabid mushroom.” He replied saying it was the treasure of Muses. Now…
Hear me out. I was quite inebriated already; plus normally, I would have kept on walking. However, when someone says treasure, how can you not lend an ear? I inquired more about this so called treasure.
He went on and on about the whole story of Muses. I didn’t care much for it. Only treasure. When he mentioned that it was gold and rare minerals that grant you the powers to fly. How could I resist?
I know what you’re thinking “who would ever listen to a duck that says you can become the moon”. All I can say, was that he was really convincing and the map wasn’t a fraud.
And so, that is how I ended up here; now surrounded by a dozen of muses while holding a wooden box.
What can I say? I wanted to fly.