Prisoners of Play, and: Of Our Own Creation

Abstract

Prisoners of Play, and: Of Our Own Creation Todd Arnold (bio) PRISONERS OF PLAY Living in a giant toy chest makes you appreciate the calm of total darkness. We're piled on top of each other, and no one moves an inch lest the monster hears us. There's Pleiades. There's Constipated Duck, Extroverted Hermit, Mr. Smelly, Hero Who Kills, Otter, Invisibility Cape, Tiny Wood Crucifix. Quiet! I think I hear him. God knows where those grubby hands have been. Now who will play the villain and who the hero? The torture and the ecstasy, the holy terror of choice? [End Page 335] OF OUR OWN CREATION Muses are inconsistent at best. Perfect scapegoats for my failures. They come into my life with trumpets blaring. They leave without warning, the only evidence a scrap of white dress in the bushes outside my window. "No, I didn't see a thing," say the neighbors. It's no use looking for them. They disappear like runaway children with a locked suitcase full of secrets. [End Page 336] Todd Arnold TODD ARNOLD lives in Portland, Oregon, where he works as a writer at a branding and digital creative agency. He holds a BA in English from the University of Washington. Copyright © 2019 Todd Arnold