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The Muse
Luke Whittier had a problem. Well, more than one, if truth be told. He had recently came to realize that he had no direction. Currently, he sat in front of a computer, a model that had been discontinued years earlier. He sat in silence, waiting for something to happen. Hours had passed already, and still nothing.

Luke was a writer by trade, or at least that's what his agent told him continually. Rather sternly, to be honest, since he was behind on his deadline-again. Watching the cursor flash wasn't helping much either. He had been unable to write a single word in a week.

A shrill ringing sounded from his right. Luke jumped. He'd been lost in his own thoughts again. He looked at the phone, finally answering on the third ring. "You've reached the headquarters of the League of Darkness and Despair."

He heard a long-suffering sigh before the gruff voice of his agent came on the line. "Well, that's cheery. You caught up on that deadline yet?"

Luke paused, considering his options. He could lie and say yes. Or he could be honest, and get yelled at thoroughly. He came back to himself when he heard his agent shouting his name. "Um, hi Mitch. Nearly there. Hey, question, if you had a main character that was driving you nuts, what would you do?"

Luke put his feet up on his desk and ran a hand through his short dark hair. Mitch was quiet for a minute; then sighed again. "Deal with it and write anyway."
He pursed his lips, adjusted his glasses and gave a short burst of laughter. "It would be so much easier to kill him."

You were having problems with that character last week. You haven't written a word, have you?"

"Uh, not exactly. But it isn't for lack of trying. I have been trying."

"You've been sitting in front of your computer all day probably. Go out, do something. Clearly staring at the screen isn't working."

"Like out, out? As in around people? Man, something has you in a good mood. You usually try and keep me isolated in the middle of a deadline."

Mitch laughed, "Yeah, but I'm tired of having to stick bamboo shoots under your fingernails to keep you on track. So, I'm trying a different approach."

Luke leaned back in his chair, his bathrobe fluttering open as the tie came undone. "Good to hear, cause all that bamboo junk made it hard to type. Alright, I'll grab my violin and go play in the park for a bit."

There was a long pause, before Mitch blurted out, "And may the Lord preserve all who are at the park today."

He hung up before Luke could reply. God knows what he would

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