I was daydreaming, with my head high in the stormclouds of today.

Discussing the best time to have creative juices flowing, especially when you don’t have a towel to clean up the puddle you are about to be swimming in. And then this ficly hit me like a metaphorical brick of gold. That could be partly due to the Owl City songs I had been listening to for the past three hours. But I am not one to judge.

So, the brick that went flying into my face was: Literal creative juices.

If you could see your creative juices, what would they look like? Would they change colors depending on what genre you were thinking of? Or depending on what mood you were in? Would they smell like roses and fresh rain? Or more like orange juice and vinegar?

Would they be thick like syrup or watery like… well, water?

Would it depend on the person? Personality? Would it matter how much came cascading out of your ears? Or would it even come out of your ears? Or your fingers?

And this is what creative juices would make. A story.