With his pen in his hand and the book in his other, he hit the end of his pen onto his wooded desk. No words were said as he read. Nothing but the sound of the pen pulling on my strings. Carefully he placed the pen behind his ear as he leaned into his chair. He raised an eyebrow, with a nod and closed the book. Placing down with its cover shown it read 'Skin by Barbara Green'.
Glaring at the book with cold stares and puff eyes. I was two seconds away from cursing up a storm, screaming at the top of my lungs. I glanced at him to find his cold icy blue eyes on me. Adjusting himself in his chair so his entire body faced me. He slide the book towards me.
"Miss. Green, How many years have you worked for me?" He asked firmly.
"Ten years sir," I said returning the same tone.
"How many books have you written for me?"
"Thirteen, sir."
"How many books have I approved?"
"Seven, sir."
"Well make this eight," He slightly smiled.
"I did want you asked of me. I took the book so answer my question. Why the hell did you give me that... that thing?"
Mr. Heller glared at his computer as he answered, "Like I said in our last meeting, yesterday. In your other stories there was no feeling in them. Ten years and your writing and nothing changed. But until now. It was just what I wanted real emotion, real passion, and real sorrow."
I sat there in silence. He was right. While I was in the book; time stopped here. While I was in the book for what seemed like a week or two weeks nothing changed. No one knew I was gone but me. And everything I had gone through during that storm was right there, in that little red leather book.
"Sir. This isn't a game! That thing, it... it" Getting up off the black leather chair I pointed a finger at the book.
"I know. It took you to a world that you can only go once to. I know firsthand what it can do." He glazed to the book. "It showed me things I can never forgot. But I was always grateful." Somehow I was able to ease down into my chair, while looking at the book. "You were the witch Gwendolyn. A strong character who had to put others in front of herself and experience love while nearly losing it too. But seeing how you were storming in here. You really did fall in love with beast."
"Goliath," I growled.
"Yes, well. If you like, I'll publish the book."
"Mr. Heller, what was your story?" I asked looking him in the eyes.
Looking back, he coughed and straighter himself in his seat, "I was a young worrier who fought alongside his master and fell in love with his master's soon-to-be wife."
"What happened?" I asked. "In the end of your story."
"He killed her and I killed him." He look of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Placing them back on, he looked at his computer and started typing.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. Thanking god I didn't have that story but I was also sad that not every story had a happy ending. It was messed up.
"No, every story is different than the next. Some good, some bad. It all depends on who's writing the story," he spoke looking back at me with piercing eyes.