Spellbound

"I've heard about you." I say staring down at the photograph. I pulled out of the envelope along with the manuscript Margaret had forwarded to me.

The photograph is a head shot. The man appealing, but the reputation, not so much.

Margaret's text had requested a favour. One that involved me looking over this man's manuscript and potentially working on the edits.

Since Margaret was my friend and in the throughs of delivering her first child, I had agreed. She'd said the manuscript was brilliant and I would be thrilled with it. The man had a track record for writing gripping spellbinding work. I just didn't want to deal with the man himself.

Setting aside my doubts, I flipped the page and began to read. It wasn't long before I was pulled into his story.

The photograph morphed into my image of the protagonist and I was the damsel in need of rescuing. I found myself moving through the story as if I was physically there. I was drawn along unable to change the story or save myself. When he appeared, I scowled and he merely laughed at me.

"If I leave, this tale will crash and burn.... and I dare say, you'll not want to have the mark on your spotless record," he drawled waiting for me to comply.

I couldn't argue with the truth of that, so I let myself follow along as he managed to move us through several harrowing escapades. In the final scene, when he pulled me into his embrace, I jerked back.

"Enough is enough," I muttered shoving him away.

As my misty mind cleared, I lifted my head from my arm to shake the sleep from my mind. I could swear I hear his taunting laugh echo around my office.

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