Author's Note: So as I said, you kind of need to listen to the song and the whole format will make much more sense. This song is completely instrumental, so I really listened to the structure and each section is a paragraph of its own. You get a thousand million trillion infinities bonus points if you listen to it and can figure it out :D

Day Sixty-Nine: The Violet Hour by The Civil Wars

Whispering.

Listening.

For inspiration.

For a muse.

An artist, looking for his stimulation. He paints all day in hues of red and violet and grey. But the colors and the shapes are all becoming…dissonant. Still, he carries on and washes the paintbrushes in old water. The water has become murky and muddled in an ugly grey. He tries to remember why he fell in love with the art in the first place.

A dancer, looking for her motivation. She dances all day in ballet slippers and half-soles until her feet are ready to give out from under her. But the movements are becoming…jarring and inharmonious with the music. Still, she continues her fouettes and a la secondes through the pain. The pain is growing into a dull, throbbing ache that cuts her to the bone. She struggles to remember that she had a dream in the first place.

He meets her and watches her dance. Suddenly, the colors come alive again. Her movements are captured in every stroke. It's like he can feel her energy through the air.

She meets him and watches him paint. She sees his eyes light up with joy. Suddenly, the pain is gone and it's just her and the dance in the air. It's like his joy restores her old passion.

And suddenly the relationship of muse and artist grows into something more. It finally seems to have some substance and backbone. There's some sort of mutual attachment between the two of them. Both are a bit hesitant to admit to having a deep attachment to one another, but it's clearly there amongst them. Things are harmonious. Being near the other is almost…placating as they are comfortable with one another.

A singer looking for something to write about. To him, she seems just like the dancer. She's just as fair and as inspiring as he is. But to her, this singer is…odd. There's something off about her. It's not right. Something's not right about her. So while he is accepting and inviting, she is cautious and timid around her.

Her music begins to inspire him. Their relationship is harmonious and…calming. The dancer looks on almost…enviously. His friends have their warnings about her, but…he doesn't listen. He continues as if nothing is wrong. She knows there's something wrong. She knows there's something wrong about the singer. He doesn't realize how much this new muse is startling his old one.

These differing feelings about the singer strike conflict between him and her. She is anxious and hesitant and he is still open and willing. She is angry with him. He is confused by her anger. She wishes he could see that she's just looking out for him. He is too engulfed in this singer to pay attention even to her warnings.

The singer tells him that she's leaving for good. She got what she wanted; a song. She doesn't need him anymore, even if she was his temporary muse. But now he sees; she was just temporary. But he lost his old muse.

He is angry with himself more than anything. So angry, he destroys his own works in fits of rage. He can't control his own anger and internal discord. He wishes things were the same as they once were.

He finally finds it in his heart to forgive himself and find her—the dancer. The way she could move was unparalleled to anything he had ever known. And he finds her one day. She's dancing with someone else. She's already promised her dance to someone else.

And all he feels is anger.

Regret.

Remorse.

Envy.

Yearning.

All for his muse.

His inspiration.

His companion.

His love.

LittleBittyAbby: So I guess you must live near...Colorado? Texas? New Mexico? Idaho? IDK, I'm very unfamiliar with the West :X Sorry. I know Vegas and Cali and Washington (the state) and Oregon are there. And I hope you never get one because it's annoying and painful and itchy and doesn't go away for like a week. And...it's okay. I probably was one of those kids who didn't get Ritalin or Adderall when I was younger and I was supposed to.

Sarah: It's okay. And I can do you one better. My whole month has been shit, soooo...

MizzIsTheFizz: Hmm...I'm really not prudish, but IDK, I'm just really weary on middle schoolers and stuff dating since it tends to crash and burn within like a week, maybe a month tops (and I know that firsthand). My mother said her mom used to heat a pepper and put it on her eye and it went away right away, but I don't have a Jalapeño, anyway.

AL3110: AL...it's called a guiro. I'm sorry, because I know you're prolly not, but you sound hella ghetto when you call a guiro "white bread". That sounds kind of like slang for...idkk...cocaine or methamphetamines or something. But it's okay. I still love you. And here we go, quote of the day: "Thank fuck you didn't harm the spark in me; I know it's all I've got." BEAT THAT. Oh, I bet you CAN'T! How about whoever can stump the other one wins? What song is that from? It's Marina or Lana (obvi), but what?

So I told you! I told you that if you didn't listen to the song! Well...it was extremely different for me and I really liked it.

The next one-shot is going to be Quiet by Demi Lovato. It's kind of cliché. Kind of annoying. Kind of boring. nothing special, really. So in the next 2 one-shots, you should look for and be excited about: #73, #74 (which you already read anyways, so maybe don't get excited), #75 (LOVE THIS ONE), #76, you were supposed to like #77 but I did a severe injustice to the goddess, #78, and #79. So basically, the 70's are just a good block for me (and it's especially great considering my favourite number is 7).

So...read any good books lately? Good fanfics? Like all of my reading is fanfiction now, which is kind of pathetic. -Kayson