Wednesday Whimsy #31
Run, Run, Rudolph...
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MUSE TAKES RUDOLPH FOR A RIDE
The Muse did not kidnap Rudolph. That’s such an ugly word. She borrowed him. It was easy enough. She waited until the others were busy polishing expectation and fastened her grip just behind his antlers—the place where necessity learns to yield.
“Just a quick flight,” she said. “No fog. No gifts. No responsibility.”
Rudolph hesitated, which pleased her. Talent that never hesitates is either lying or exhausted.
They rose anyway—sideways at first, then up, then absurdly fast—cutting across a sky that had no wishlist and no schedule. The Muse laughed. Of course she did. She always assumes flight belongs to her.
“That glow of yours,” she said, circling his nose with one curious finger, “you wear it like an apology.”
Rudolph snorted. “Do you know,” he said, “how hard I worked to be useful?”
This was unexpected. The Muse prefers gratitude or resistance. Reflection complicates things.
“I wasn’t chosen for being bright,” Rudolph went on. “I was chosen for behaving when brightness became convenient.”
The Muse tilted her head. The stars shifted slightly. She hates it when the supporting cast speaks in full sentences.
“I practiced,” he said. “Holding steady. Shining on cue. Waiting until they were ready to call it brilliance.”
They banked sharply. The Muse recovered first, of course—but not without effort.
“So all this,” she said, gesturing at the sky, “was ambition?”
“No,” Rudolph said. “It was survival.”
Ah... Now that was familiar.
They flew lower then, skimming rooftops where longing slept uneasily beneath wrapping paper. The Muse grew quiet. This happens rarely and never lasts. “I thought you’d enjoy a night off,” she said at last.
Rudolph smiled—just a little. “I am enjoying it.”
And that’s when she understood: He wasn’t rebelling. He was choosing.
When she returned him—reluctantly, precisely—Rudolph straightened his harness without being asked.
He nodded to the Muse, courteous as anything. “I’ll lead again tomorrow,” he said. “But tonight was mine.”
The Muse watched him go, something unsettled flickering through her expression. “How maddening,” she murmured.
It turns out even stars know the difference between being seen…and being needed.
