He shivered in his studio as he approached the newest blank canvas, his past attempts were strewn around his studio torn to bits, or shredded by knives, nothing had come to him yet. And with each failure, with each new attempt the voice became more insistent more direct in what it wanted from him. He stared at the white of the canvas and tried to will forth something, anything but his mind was as blank as the canvas in front of him.

The voice suddenly stormed into his mind "you know what you need, its foolish to fight it’. He clasped his hand to his ears to try and prevent the words from reaching him but the voice came again just as insistant "the deal is the same, the price is the same you know what is needed’. His eyes welled as he turned his head toward his bedroom, and the girl sleeping within, "you must call upon your muse, that is the bargain, that is the price’ the voice insisted in his head. His eyes welled as he picked up the knife he used to cut canvas, the voice was right; he needed his muse.