Happy Hump Day! Guess what!?!? I won Thursday Threads last week. Woot! Woot. The prompt was intriguing and offered lots of different ways to go. At least for me. Since I won, I think I picked the right path. Here’s the prompt: *“I don’t remember putting it there.”* I found the prompt also very apropos because I “lost” my coffee mug AND my phone at various times last week. By lost, I mean I set them down and couldn’t remember where. Playing “Where in the World is Carmen San Diego” is always treat. 🙄 It’s a good thing I don’t go out often. 😆

So, to the snippet. The only thing I can tell you is what you read here. More info on Aisling but as to who the mysterious man is? Not a freaking clue. Well, okay, I have a clue. You get two guesses but the third one doesn’t count. Anyway, here it is.

****
Aisling peeked around the corner. The hallway remained empty. Darting to her office, she slipped the key into the lock, opened the door, and ducked inside, shutting the door behind her. She turned the lock. Her office had no windows and she stood, breathing hard, in absolute darkness.

She hated the dark, was afraid of it, but she couldn’t force her hand to the light switch. What was happening to her? She’d sat down in one place and stood up in another. She’d lost time. She feared she was losing her mind.

Now breathing normally, she flipped the light switch—and stared at a massive volume resting on the corner of her desk. The red leather cover, torn and faded, sported gilded letters in a language she’d never seen, yet seemed familiar. Focusing, she searched her memory. A name popped into her head. Tolkien. The words resembled the Elvish language he’d created for his books. Granted, the president was an Elf but that didn’t mean they’d ever released any of their literature into the human world. Or had they?

Close to hyperventilating, she muttered, “I don’t remember putting it there.”

“That’s because you didn’t.”

Aisling screamed, whirled and threw the book. She didn’t recall picking it up. The man standing in the corner of her office caught the tome easily and handed it back.

“You need to read it.”

“I don’t understand the language.”

He walked to the door, stepped out. “You will,” he promised, shutting the door behind him.
****

Anybody want to guess who brought the book? Or what the book is? Or why Aisling needs to read it? I’ll take all the suggestions I can get. In the meantime, writers, steal at will if it stimulates your imagination. Readers, would you open a book that mysteriously appears on your desk?