'Tom began - hesitantly at first, but, as he warmed to his subject, his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale.'

It's funny how it happens, we hear a story...or a perspective of a story and we're pulled under...maybe we just sink in. It's easy. The tale is a good one, there's an obvious unlikely hero. No-body needs to twist our arm, we're on their side, totally convinced. 
But then she rings. He calls. They tell you a story. One that sounds familiar but isn't. One that you've heard before...but haven't.You crease your brow while you nod your head. Unconvinced. 
      'But I thought-'
The laugh silences you. You press your lips tight together while your mind whirls like a merry go round and you listen to a different story, a new tale, where the hero is destroyed and the villain wins the day. 
And then you wonder if there ever was a hero...if there ever can be a hero? 
Time helps to soften the blow, it blurs the image and blunts the edges. There's always a hero, someone will always save the day.  
You sigh and smile. There's a niggling worry that you ignore, a fleeting thought that you don't try to catch. 
Just be careful who you choose to be your hero.
Who you choose to save the day.