So this story is inspired by one of my favorite films, Somewhere in Time, there will be a lot of differences from both the movie and original book.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Robin Locksley was a writer, more specifically a playwright, world renowned for his romanticised idea of life and his wit and humour. The ability he possessed to instil a piece with such life was magnificent, he only wished his own life could be instilled with that same happiness and light. The life he lived was one many would yearn for, be begging for, but for some reason that wasn't him, he wasn't in it for the fame, or the money, he was doing it for his love of literature and he just happened to be bloody good at his job.
The one thing he longed for though was love, someone in his life that he loved more than life itself, someone he would move heaven and earth for, like the characters in his plays would, he wanted someone who was that special, who he loved that much. So far in life he hadn't met that special person, sure there had been girls, but there hadn't been one that he had met and simply fallen head over heels in love with, so much so that he would be willing to lay his own life down for her, put it all on hold for this one person, the one person that would bring joy to his heart and light to his life.
Momentarily he had lost his muse and was working desperately to find it again, he wasn't having much luck, maybe the inspiration pool had dried out, maybe he wouldn't create another piece of great literature again in his lifetime, maybe his career was over. He closed the lid of his laptop and stared out across the city, he needed a break, needed to get away, maybe then he would find something, something to spark his creative talent, to give him something to write. He was going to take a trip, somewhere without the distraction of modern technology, no laptops, no phone signal, somewhere that he could be alone to brood.
He opened his computer again and typed something into his search engine, he flexed his fingers waiting for the results to come up, then he spotted something, The Grand Hotel Mackinac Island, yes, that was where he wanted to go, it didn't take very long for him to make his decision and he booked a room for a week's stay, it should do him good, get him out of the county for a while. He stood up and packed a bag with all the simple things he needed and called for his driver and private jet to be ready. He knew it was impulsive, but that was the point, to be impulsive, make rash decisions and see where they would take him.
Pulling up to the hotel, he felt better already, it was a clean white building, its columns standing proud, supporting the structure, little flags in between each one. The grounds were green and covered in dashes of colour, provided by the multitude of different flowers that were systematically placed to provide a beautiful foreground for a beautiful building. No cars were allowed on the island, so he was having to ride in style, by horse and cart, how regal and old school, just another little quirk giving an 19th century feel to the place.
He paid the driver and walked up the small flight of stairs that led to the lobby, inside was just as grand, the bold carpets standing out a mile, combined with the dark wood, it was so Edwardian-esque and he loved it. He walked to the front desk and smiled at the receptionist, "lovely place." He nodded, handing her all the relevant booking information.
"It is isn't it?" she smiled, her blonde curls softly pinned to her head, she had a pin badge which read Katrina Bell and she had attached a little sticker of Disney's Tinkerbell onto it.
"Really beautiful, perfect."
"Great, business or pleasure?" she asked, looking down at her sign in book.
"Bit of both, I'm a writer."
"Ah, I see, come to find your muse?"
"Something like that," Robin laughed, running his hands across the wood, that was exactly what he was here to do, he desperately needed his muse back, but he had a feeling that after today he would find it, he looked at his pocket watch and placed it back down; some could say that he was a rather fond historian and liked his antique trinkets.
"I think you'll find it here," she nodded.
"Hope so," he continued to look around, just taking everything in and wondering what he should do first.
"So Mr Locksley, you are in room 127, here's your room card, room service is available night and day and there are always staff on hand to help with anything you might need."
"Thanks," he grinned, it was always good to have nice staff on hand to help. Something off to the side caught his eye and he furrowed his eyebrows, "what's that room?"
"Ah that is the Grand Hotel's museum, we display pieces in there from the past, things that have occurred over the last century."
"I see," he nodded, "interesting."
"Yes, it is, anyway I hope you have a magical stay."
The way she drew out the word magical caught his attention and he rose his eyebrows, that was very interesting indeed. He was going to have to visit the museum later, first he wanted to go and see his room, sort out his accommodation, maybe have a light lunch. He carried his bag and stepped into the elevator, it was one decorated to resemble the ones used in the original building, but obviously, they had been updated since then to comply with modern safety protocol.
He pushed open the door to his room, it was simple but elegant, the crisp white sheets on the bed were adorned with throw pillows; it was a four poster one created from mahogany wood. He moved over to the window and looked out of it, seeing the sea and he could just about make out a lighthouse, it was spectacular. He grinned to himself, he just knew that this trip would provide him with the thing he was looking for, inspiration.
After he had changed from his travel clothes into a clean pair of trousers and a shirt, he headed downstairs, he wanted to get a better look at this museum, he glanced at all the different objects, there was a lot of paraphernalia from the hotels past, booklets about things that had been performed here, live plays, theatre or something like that. Of course, for him being a writer it was all exciting, looking into old plays and seeing how they used to be so that he could compare them to his own.
The way they used to write was so eloquent, well spoken, using words they would never include within modern storytelling, not unless it was historically based. He toyed with a couple of manuscripts, it was astounding what used to be seen as comedy as well, none of it was funny, not really, he looked at the photos of the hotel from the early 1900s all the people were dressed in fancy clothes and they were beautiful, the photos were… beautiful.
He dropped the picture that he was holding and stared at a singular frame depicting the most stunning woman he had seen his life, he actually let out a gasp as he walked over to the picture, it was the only one on the wall despite being in a small little frame. The frame itself was decorative gold whereas the image was an oval mount with her in the middle.
Although the photo was in black and white he could still determine a few things, like for instance her hair colour was an intense dark brown shade, if not raven and it was piled upon her head with a few loose strands curling down around her face. Her eyes seemed to sparkle through the page, speaking volumes, he felt as though he were actually looking at her, as though she was actually there. Her smile was breath-taking, her lips were tilted into what resembled a mischievous smile, and he was captivated completely.
It was like something had happened inside him the moment he saw her, some sort of chemical reaction that had gone straight to his heart and surged through his veins consuming him. It was ridiculous to feel so much emotion towards a photo because that's all she was, a woman in a photograph. She had some small earrings fastened in her ears and a simple necklace around her neck. Just below that was the bodice of her dress, a modest number with little gems sewn into it. Robin really needed to pull himself together, she may look like the woman of his dreams, resemble the person he would see at night when he closed his eyes, but she was just a figure in a photograph. She was a woman in a photograph capture god knows how many years ago.
He moved his eyes to the caption, wanting to find out exactly who this Edwardian beauty was, he read the words aloud and something fastened itself around his heart. He discovered that the picture was taken in 1912 and her name was the most beautiful name he had heard in his entire life.
"Regina Mills."