The Muses were becoming in increasingly concerned because they could hear their three children arguing again.
"What is wrong with them?" Mrs. Muse asked her husband, sadly. "All they do is fight with each other."
"I don't know," replied Mr. Muse. "This is really beginning to worry me too."
"I will speak to them again," Mrs. Muse said. "But, one of these days, we do have to get to the root of this. Our children have never been like this before. As the next generation of Muses for the world, they have always been wonderful children, creative, full of love, life and energy."
Tess, their oldest daughter, who was normally very cheerful, no longer appeared to be happy at all. If anything, she was miserable. She had always seemed to blossom like a rose no matter what was happening in her life. Now she was becoming more like a cantankerous, old rose bush. If anything, her thorns were becoming increasingly evident to everyone in the family.
The wonderful children's poetry, which she had worked on previously, had always seemed to be the center of her life. Now she was writing fewer and fewer poems. Some days, she did not even try to write any poetry at all. The few pieces that she did create all seemed to be very cold, callous and almost cruel.
No longer did poetry flow freely from her pen either. To her, writing poetry was becoming hard work, not something that she did because it was her passion in life. It was no longer fun for her either. None of her poetry seemed to reveal any love for herself, anyone, or anything else. It was as if she had somehow lost her zest for writing and for life itself.
Her parents knew that she had stopped inspiring poets around the world. As a result, no one anywhere was writing children's poetry, not even nursery rhymes, because there was just no source of inspiration.
Looking at Tess's face, they could see that she was getting far too serious for her age. She no longer smiled at them, or at her brothers. She tried to hide all of her feelings and seemed to walk away from anyone who attempted to speak with her about anything, especially her poetry.
Moos who was the oldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Muse, was also changing, much to their dismay. He seemed to be getting unhappier all the time, too. He no longer whistled when he worked and no one ever heard him singing in the shower any more. The sheet music which he had loved writing was now being tossed in a drawer. Even worse, sometimes he became so upset that he threw it into the fireplace. He was very angry and always ready to pick a fight with his sister and brother. His school friends were disappearing too. Instead of having wonderful times together, making music or writing something new, like they had been doing for a number of years, all the boys were all fighting and arguing.
Mr. and Mrs. Muse realized that there was no longer the same kind of happy music resonating in their home.
If Moos did try to create some music on his own, it seemed to be very sad music. He no longer created new symphonies, or organized mini-concerts for everyone. Special occasions came and went without any input of new music from him. His parents knew that he was no longer inspiring anyone else in the world to create music. It seemed that there was no one anywhere interested in creating children's music, or the kind of music that teenagers love. The music adults would have enjoyed was tossed aside. If he did write anything new, it was full of sour notes and discord. No one wanted to listen to that kind of music. To his father and mother, it appeared that the unhappiness of their son echoed around the world.
Arthur, their youngest son, had started to paint with dark, somber colors instead of the wonderful, rainbow colors that normally appeared on his canvases. He had been such a wonderful artist, but seldom did he paint anything any more. His mother was stunned, as she watched him toss one of his pieces of artwork out the window. Normally he would not part with anything that he had drawn or painted. He loved his own work.
In his room, Mrs. Muse found one piece of artwork after another that he had torn up, defaced in some way, or had hidden away in a cupboard. There was not one picture on display in the mini, art gallery that he started to build. He had always been a boy who loved to show off his work to others, so his mother knew that something was not right.
"This is not good," she said, as she gazed at a whole book of sketches that he had torn apart. A number of the pencil and charcoal portraits lay crumpled on the floor.
"I am going to have to speak with your father about this," she told Arthur. "Go to bed now and we will talk again."
Later, as Mr. and Mrs. Muse sat together on the old wooden fence that enclosed the pasture, they talked quietly.
"That moonlight is perfect," Mrs. Muse said. "It certainly is a beautiful night. This is the kind of night that should inspire all of the Muses, both the adults and the children, to do something truly creative."
It was a nice evening, but it seemed to be very quiet compared to what evenings were normally like in their home. Mrs. Muse decided to tell her husband what she had found.
"This is not good." Mr. Muse said, after she had told him about Arthur. "I know that something is not right. We don't have the same happy home that we used to have!"
"Things are too quiet!" said Mrs. Muse. "Either that, or the children are all yelling at each other. All of our children seem angry and so sad! It tears my heart apart."
"I really do not like to see our children unhappy," said Mr. Muse. "We did not raise our three children to behave like this either. We want them to be free, happy, playful, content and active, even if they are noisy at times. It is terrible to see them hiding in corners like scared rabbits. The sulking and fighting, that is terrible! Maybe they are afraid. Fear could do that to them. Something is certainly taking away all of their joy. I sure wish that I knew what it was."
"But what are they so frightened of, I wonder," said Mrs. Muse to her husband. "When they are unhappy, I am afraid for them too and it makes me unhappy. What can we do?"
"I don't know," said Mr. Muse. "I wonder if the other Muse families are having a problem."
"Maybe," said Mrs. Muse. "The whole world seems to be acting rather strange lately for some reason. None of the Muses were active anywhere in the world, not even the older ones. I wonder why that is? Maybe we ought to be concerned. Do you think that this might be a global problem?"
"We could talk to the international council of muses about it," Mr. Muse suggested. "The master might be able to tell us what is going with the other Muse children in the world. Maybe he will have some ideas about what we can do to make things better?"
"But if we go to the council, it may only make things worse in our family, or in other families too," replied Mrs. Muse quietly, after a moment of silence. "Maybe it is the right thing to do? I don't know!"
Mr. Muse and Mrs. Muse finally decided to go to a meeting of the international council of Muses.
The next evening, as they entered the council meeting, Mr. and Mrs. Muse spoke to a few of the other parents, who were just coming in. They were shocked to find that every single set of parents said exactly the same thing. They were all having the same problem with their children. Their children were unhappy, arguing, fighting, despondent and depressed. None of the children were creative any longer. Many of the younger children were spending time a lot of time crying. No one seemed to know why. All of the parents were concerned, as they knew that this was not normal behavior for any of the Muse children around the world.
"What are we doing wrong?" the master of the council asked, after speaking with Mr. Muse. "What is hurting our children so badly? This is serious because they are the next generation of Muses. We have to do something before it is too late. Who has some ideas?"
None of the people who were present seemed to be able to come up with a solution.
"Let's invite all of the children to council," one of the younger leaders suggested a while later. "Let them tell us."
The master of the council thought about it for a moment. "When in doubt, ask the children. Sometimes children are smarter than adults. That sounds like a good idea," he decided. "Thank you, every one in favor?"
They all nodded, as each one knew that the entire world was going to suffer because all of the Muse children from around the world were affected by this.
"No one is opposed so all right. We will hold a meeting here on Friday evening, at seven o'clock," said the Master. "I want all of the Muse families from all over the world to attend with all of their children, no matter what age they are. Be here! That is an order!"
The people could see that the master of the council was very concerned. He slammed his wooden gavel down on the table. He always had the final word in any decision, but he was not usually quite this upset.
The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Muse sat the three children down and explained to them why they were going to go to a council meeting together. None of the children wanted to go, but they knew that their parents were not about to take no for an answer.
Thousands of Muse families from all over the world, gathered for the Friday evening meeting. It was actually too quiet, considering that there were hundreds of babies, children and teenagers present. The babies were not making any noise which was rather unusual. Normally, they would be gurgling, cooing and playing with their siblings, or with each other.
The small children just sat quietly on the floor, or on their parent's laps, instead of running around, sharing their toys or playing together. They all seemed to be very unhappy. Not one child moved.
The teenagers were too quiet. They did not even try to talk to one another. It seemed that every single person in the room knew that something was wrong.
The master of the international council of Muses called the meeting to order and welcomed everyone. His face looked very serious. "This is how we will proceed," he said.
Mr. Muse looked at Mrs. Muse, but did not say one word.
"I want each one of you children to come up to the front and to tell us exactly what is happening. If you wish to do so, you can bring your mom and dad with you. You can tell them what is happening if you prefer and then they can tell us," said the master of the council. "This is really important."
"I am afraid," said Tess. "We are too," said Moos and Arthur, at exactly the same time.
Mr. Muse had a plan.
"We are going to be the first ones to speak. We will go up to the front together as a family," said Mr. Muse. "Trust me. There is nothing to be afraid of here. You can speak openly and freely. No one will harm you. Tess, you will be the first one to speak, so speak out loud and clear."
Tess was very hesitant, but she trusted her father. She knew that a lot depended on what she said too.
"I was told that I don't exist," said Tess sadly, when she finally began to speak. "That I am not real. Am I real?" she asked, looking directly at her mother. "Please tell me that I am real."
"Yes, dear, you are real," her mother replied, giving her a big hug in front of everyone. "I could not hug you, if you were not real. Thank you for telling us."
"I was told that I am a figment of the imagination," said Moos, with a sigh, when his turn came a few moments later. "I am only something that people imagine. How can that be? I don't think that I can be a fig, or a figment, whatever that is."
"What a thing to tell a child!" said Mr. Muse to his son. "I cannot imagine my world without you. You are definitely not a figment of my imagination!" He patted him on the head. "I could not pat you on the head if you were, could I?" He put his arm around his son. "And you are not a fig. If you were, someone could try to eat you. Thank you ever so much for speaking up!"
Arthur was very reluctant to speak, but that was normal for him. He had always tended to be the shy one in the family. Finally, he whispered in his father's ear. "I was told that I am a demon. That is not good, is it? I always try to be good. Does that mean that I am really, really bad?"
"Who on earth told you that?" demanded Mr. Muse. "What a mean thing to say to a child your age! You are about as close to an angel as any boy that I have ever known."
"This child is being told that he is a demon!" said Mr. Muse to the Master.
He turned to the crowd.
"My daughter Tess was told that she is not real. My oldest son, Moos, was accused of being a figment of the imagination," said Mr. Muse to them. "And my other son Arthur has been told that he is a demon. This cannot be happening to us and our children, not in this era. I am very angry! No wonder our children are so upset."
The crowd was stunned with what he had just told them.
"This is really tragic! Something must be done about this," said Mrs. Muse, who was normally not one to speak in public. She gathered her three children close. "Stay close to your father and I, children," she said. "Really close."
One by one, all of the Muse families came up to the front and the children revealed what was happening in their lives.
"This is a very serious situation," said the master of the council, when all of the families had finished speaking. Everyone could see that he was quite upset. He looked very pale and shaken. He remained silent for a couple of minutes and then tapped his gavel on the table to get everyone's attention.
The people waited.
"It is becoming increasingly apparent that all of our Muse children are being silenced one way or another and that it is making them very unhappy."
The master took a deep breath.
"I am not certain why this is happening, but I see that this is causing them to be afraid. They appear to be losing what I like to call their creative genius, individually and collectively. This is affecting each one of them personally too, as many of them are now becoming angry, anxious, depressed and almost suicidal. This is a very serious situation."
The master frowned and paused again.
"I think what we will do is take a recess for today," he said calmly. "Do not panic. We will meet again in one week's time. Next week, I would like all of you to bring your children with you again, including the babies."
He stopped, took another deep breath and cleared his throat.
"In the meantime, I would like every family to brainstorm and come up with some ideas about what we can do. Then we will try to make some kind of a ruling. Is that agreed?"
With that, the entire crowd stood up and applauded.
"Until next week then," said the master of the council. "We will find an answer to this global crisis of the Muses. I promise."
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