The Front

The worried muse watched as the person she was supposed to be inspiring moped around in a manner reminiscent of a very unhappy mop. Sure, she couldn’t be seen, but that didn’t mean that she had absolutely no bearing in the author’s life. It was her job to make sure this person was writing. And here that person was, doing the exact opposite: being static!

The ‘inspired one’ had tried many different poses in the last few hours. Sitting, standing, lying down, leaning – none really worked for comfort.

Erika was growing quite tired of the constant gloom surrounding her client.

She was just about to pull out her scroll and whack the author over the head when she noticed something crawling in the dark regions of the desk.

A devilish little giggle rang out in the room, audible only to Erika’s ears. The sound was followed by a deep, uninspired and melancholy sigh from the author.

Oh, so they were meddling now, were they? Foolish creatures!

Erika’s mint-green eyes narrowed dangerously.

This means war.

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