The Pilot By: Miles Fowkes

The sun was just setting on the lake and the orange light shimmered on the dark blue water. The breeze was warm and blew gently through the man’s hair. He could feel the wind against his skin, smell the freshness of the water and hear the waves crash against the shore. It was early summer and Michael was sitting on the dock of his newly bought lake house.

Today marked his second week of retirement. Michael thought back to when he worked. He used to be a pilot and was one of the best. He thought about the places he flew to admiring the view from so far up and the listening soft hum of the engine. He had loved his job and he had excelled at it. The reason he was retired now was because after a horrible accident that had hurt his eyes and vision. He could still see decent but not good enough to fly.

Michael decided to go inside to start dinner. As he walked back up to his house thought about what he would do in all the time he had without a job. “I don't know what I'm going to do with all this time,” he said aloud “I'm already a little bored, I'll have to find a hobby.” As he neared the door he decided he would find a hobby another day.

Though the weather outside was pleasant and gentle, when Michael walked through the door his expression changed completely. The inside of the house was dark, gloomy and lonely. Even as he flicked on the lights the house still gave off feeling of emptiness. The house was like a dark cloudy day that never got sunny.

Three weeks later Michael still didn't have a hobby. He was starting to feel distressed all the time and didn't have a thing to relieve it. Often times he found himself pacing in his living room.

Two days later it was wet and gloomy. It was early morning, Michael was just sitting lonely and depressed. He thought to himself my old job was fun and exciting but I can't go back to it and I am too old to get a new one. Michael picked up a book and started reading. He was disgusted by the book “If I wrote this I would do it so much differently,” he said aloud.

Maybe I could write a book Michael thought to himself. He sat down at his computer and wrote a short story. As he tried writing he didn't think he would like, but as he got going he found himself enjoying it. After writing for three days straight he had a great short story, about 70 pages.

The next day he showed it to one of his friends and he loved it. So Michael took the book to a publisher. Two months later Michael was writing a second book. He had sold loads of copies of his short story through the publishing company and he even made money. This time he was going to write a novel.

As Michael was typing on his laptop he finally felt happy.

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