There once lived a boy who loved to write. Writing was everything he did and everything he wanted to do. It didn't so much matter that he may not have been much good, nor that he new how to spelt or that grammar wasn't the bestest of things of his, it mattered only that he did it and loved it and did it because he loved it.
Then one day an evil came along and took away Inspiration. It came without warning, or calling card or befriending me on facebook; nothing that would aid our young hero in the recovery of Inspiration. It came and went like a wisp of wind leaving him helpless; helpless and scared.
He continued to think thoughts, but they didn't amount to much. The thoughts thunked remained un-wrote, un-developed, un-recorded. For the longest time he wasn't even aware that Inspiration had been taken. It wasn't until he looked back upon his work to find that there was precious little work to look back upon.
It was at this moment that our young hero took it upon himself to search for Inspiration, to hunt down that evil with his vorpal blade. To rescue poor inspiration.
This is the story of that rescue.
Thank you, and welcome back.
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