Willows, Phobos, and Hexes, Oh My...


Matthew sipped his coffee in the break room.  To say he was upset would be an immense understatement.  Thanks to his bosses’ last-minute addition to his workload, he was going to work late this Friday.  


That makes what, the fifth Friday in a row, he mused.  Or is it the sixth? He had lost track of them. Seems like I’m a doormat for their incompetence, he laughed to himself.  Ah well, he thought further, not like I had plans anyway.

“Penny for your thoughts.” A soft feminine voice interrupted.  He looked over to see Raven, a short skinny blonde co-worker of his.  Almost childlike in her appearance, Matthew wondered if her name was decided on before her birth.  Personality and looks, there was nothing dark about her, like her name suggested.

“A bit overpriced,” he replied looking at the bottom of his cup.  Raven sat down and looked at him.

“Come on,” she prodded, “I can tell when someone is upset, and right now you are absolutely glowing with anger.”

Matthew took a deep breath, looked at his cup again.  Stood up and went over to refill his cup. All the while Raven just watched, a caring smile painted on her face.  He was a bit aggravated, bubbly personalities at times were more than a bit of aggravation on him.  

He sat back down and sighed.  “Okay,” he muttered, “I am going to lose out on another Friday night.  The boss has added a mountain of paperwork that will take me hours to input into the computer.”

Raven had a puzzled look on her face, “Why not just spell them onto the hard drive?” she asked, “Like the rest of us?”

Matthew had a confused look about him, “Of course I spell them.  It is what makes them into words. I doubt Mr. Davis would be happy at entering random letters…”

Raven laughed, “No silly. Spell. Use your magic.”

Matthew looked at his coffee cup and wondered what was in it.  Then looked a Raven and wondered what she had gotten into. She had said it so matter of factly like he would if he were discussing the weather or the Astros lackluster playing this season.

It had to be a joke, he thought.  He snorted, “Better than that, why not just spell myself to Tahiti for the weekend?”

She beamed, “That’s the spirit.”

He shook his head.  The girl had lost touch with reality, he thought.

He added, “If that’s the case, why not just spell Davis into oblivion.”

Raven had a look of fear and then said slowly, “Well, I got to run my breaks over.”  Before Matthew could say anything she was gone. He shrugged and went back to his office.

Several minutes later he heard pounding on his door, and it open.  In walked a man in a shabby suit followed by two uniformed police officers.  Matthew looked over at them annoyed.  

“Matthew Andrews.” The officer said more as a statement than a question.

“Yes.” He shot back.  He could do without more interruptions.  The officer motioned to him.

“Come with me, sir.” He said, “You are under arrest.”

“Under arrest?” he said incredulously.   “For what.”

“Terroristic Hexing.” The officer said, “You have the right to remain….”

Matthew almost let out a laugh till he saw that the two officers in the doorway had pulled out what looked to like wands and had aimed them at him.

“Terroristic Hexing?” Matthew asked.

Nick’s eyebrows shot up with that one. “I have no idea, all I do is whisk you away to the latest reality that is available.”

Matthew just smirked, “I would love to meet the geniuses that make these things up.  Is this where failed Hollywood screenwriters go to die?”

Nick looked angry for a second and then answered, “No, we only use the best of screenwriters and copy editors for working with the fates.”

Matthew snorted, “who wrote what? The same people that wrote the fine print for software agreements?”

Nick did not bother to answer, instead just shrugged, “on to the next one.”

Copyright 2014-2021 Kohl Media Solutions. All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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