IFJ- Collection Five

Jesus the Muse
I wrinkled my nose and huffed, jabbing at the backspace key on my keyboard for about 30 seconds. Invisible Friend Jesus sat next to me, flipping through “Us” Magazine. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“You know what’s wrong,” I snapped. “My brain is all tangled up with my books right now. Something isn’t right, and I can’t figure out what it is.” I hid my face in my hands, my fingers digging into the flesh of my scalp. He put the magazine down and scooted over, putting his arm around me.

“Hush, Tinkerbell,” he said. “No need for dramas.” He rubbed my shoulders and I sat there quietly, letting my angst dissipate. “You know what?” he said after a while. “You’re telling a story about fighting evil, but you’re writing about evil as if it were an external force.”

I thought about that for a minute, then took my hands from my face, looking over at him. “I see your point.”

“I had to go on a vision quest and have my own battle with the devil,” he said. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a bible, turning to Matthew 4:1. He handed it to me.

“‘And he fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward he was hungry,'” I read, then I giggled. “My critique group would say to cut out the second part of that sentence, because, you know, duh.”

He smiled. “I don’t think Matthew ran this by his critique group before he published it.”

I read through the chapter and put the book down, staring off into space for a while. Then a huge grin spread over my face. I looked over to find him watching me with his little smile.

“You got it now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I know how the series ends now. Thank you, Invisible Friend Jesus.”

I started typing again, and he picked up his magazine. “Any time,” he said.

Jesus the Zen Master
Invisible Friend Jesus sat in the backseat of the car, playing solitaire on his iPad. “My husband is driving,” I said. “This is a perfect opportunity to practice tapping into the universal love so I don’t get glorious muscled-up angry.”

“Good idea,” he said.

The car was quiet for a minute or so, but then I huffed and twitched. “This is pointless, Invisible Friend Jesus! I can’t meditate when he’s driving like a gork. Why does he tailgate people going under the speed limit instead of just passing them?!”

“Shhhh, Tinkerbell. What does it matter? Let it go. ”

“But why…?”


I took a deep breath and tried to let love fill me up. I lasted about two minutes this time before I was digging my fingernails into the seat cushions. “I can’t do it! He either goes five miles under the speed limit or twenty miles over it! It drives me goobers!”

“You can do it, Tink. Anger diminishes your soul and is a waste of time. Also, everybody gets to drive how they see fit without spousal nagging, except in life-threatening situations.”

“Is that in the Bible?”

He hesitated slightly. “Yes,” he said. I looked back at him. He was grinning.

“You liar,” I said.

He laughed. “Now, let yourself not be angry. Just relax.”

I heaved a huge sigh and squeezed my eyes closed. I was having no luck again until he leaned forward and blew on the back of my neck in that spot that makes your brain go weird. I smiled as all the tension suddenly left me and I got a serious case of the warm fuzzies. “Oh, okay. I feel better now. Thanks, Invisible Friend Jesus.”

“Any time,” he said.

More Insomnia
He sat there in his pajamas, tapping a finger against his lips as he watched me thoughtfully. “You got up at one in the morning again,” he remarked.

“Sure did,” I said, typing away at Book Seven.

“That’s buh-nay-nays, Tinkerbell. You get up before most of your friends go to sleep.”

I glanced up from the screen. “Remember that article we read? The one about how some people only need like 3-5 hours of sleep, and how 8 hours is actually bad for you?”

He snorted softly, wagging one of his bare feet. “Are you comparing yourself to manic, workaholic politicians and CEOs?”

“No,” I said. “My fantasy novels are probably much better than theirs.”

More Rejection
“Invisible Friend Jesus, help me to not be mad or upset that I got a really rude rejection for a short story.”

He scooted over and took my hand. “You’re my girl, Tink, but you’re not easy for some people to understand. You’re raw and emotional, and have a strange sense of humor. But that’s what’s wonderful about you. So you absolutely shouldn’t feel bad when people reject you for being like that.”

I put my head on his shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t.”

“Well then, don’t,” he said.

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