The Writer

He had a job to do. As Will scribbled away he thought about calming seas, soft beaches, sand slipping through his toes and the sound of laughing families lounging in the sun. He had just come back from a trip to Spain with his family and would not forget the luxury beaches and scorching sun. He was daydreaming so much that he didn't notice his boss stride in.

"How's the job going Will?" he asked.

Will jumped with fright and quickly spun around to face his boss.

''Great thanks." mumbled Will, staring at his own rather large feet.

He was wearing a white T-shirt bearing the words 'San Fransisco 1949', a pair of blue jeans and some large shiny black boots.

''I can see that writing come naturally to you, Will. I am very impressed.Usually when I hire someone to do the job they give up surprisingly quickly! " exclaimed Mr Hexen (the boss).

''Thank you.''

Mr Hexen exited the room and Will let out a thankful sigh. There was something off about his boss, he just felt it.

The next day Will felt ill. He had a rasping cough and it seemed he couldn't get out of bed. Fortunately it was Saturday which meant no work, but he still felt miserable.

The day went painfully slowly, Will just slept and slept. It seemed all this writing was tiring him out.

When he woke up the next day he had a question stirring in his mind. What was he writing for? He had been so engrossed in the actual writing that he didn't give a thought to anything else.

Will climbed out of bed and quickly got dressed, skipped breakfast and hopped onto a bus to work. Unfortunately he had work on Sundays, but right now he wanted to talk to his boss.

A few minutes later he was sat in Mr Hexens office, explaining his question.

"I thought you might ask that, the answer is simple. None of your business."shrugged Mr Hexen.

''But...but...'' staggered Will, his cheeks going red.

''Now would you mind leaving,I have work to do.''

Will left feeling stupid and annoyed. He would have to work it out by himself...