I had settled down for the evening with a good book, a fire roaring in the fireplace and a well-made cup of tea on the end table next to the couch. Work had been brutal - another day of drudgery as I listened to people on the other end of the phone complain about one misfortune after another. It wasn't their fault - I worked at a call center that took claims on insurance policies. People mostly called me with bad news. I was the middleman that sent that bad news on to other people who actually dealt with it. As I sat back and immersed myself in the book (hardly a classic, but an entertaining fantasy novel nonetheless), I lost track of the world around me. So immersed was I in this rollicking tale of elves, dwarves, good humans and bad humans, wizards and kings and magic and heroes and legends and so much more, that I completely ignored the passage of time. I lost track of the fire, paid no attention whatsoever to my tea, even lost track of the ticking of the grandfather clock that for years had sat in my parlor keeping me company with its clanking and chiming.
And then it hit me. I wasn't hearing the clock anymore ... because there was no sound of a clock to hear. I looked up, hesitantly, and realized I was no longer seeing my living room with a warm fire. No, I was seeing trees ... and a pair of eyes, staring right at me from the dark of the woods.
And then it hit me. I wasn't hearing the clock anymore ... because there was no sound of a clock to hear. I looked up, hesitantly, and realized I was no longer seeing my living room with a warm fire. No, I was seeing trees ... and a pair of eyes, staring right at me from the dark of the woods.
