Chapter 2: Out of the Mist and into an Elf

Mist is a very easy concept to grasp. It surrounds you, blocking vision, and makes things damp. But, when I say Mist, I don’t mean mist. They are very similar, that is true, but what you encounter in the normal world is mist, not Mist.

Now Mist is something different. It takes the same form as mist, is made almost exactly like mist with the same feel and dampness, but what makes it different is that there is a story to Mis,t.

When I was creating my world, Mist was a very important factor. It surrounded the world, stopping anything from exiting, and anything that came from Mist was special and powerful. So, being surrounded by what I knew to be Mist, I knew something was strange.

Some of you may be wondering how I knew it was Mist, and not mist, well, that is easy. There is a quality of reality with mist, which does not exist with Mist. This is because Mist is not from our world, is not in our world, and will never be there. Because of its lack of existence in our world, it’s easy to tell the difference.

Just think of it as being thrown into unfamiliar territory, you can sense the difference in the air, that it’s something you’re not familiar with at all. That’s how I knew, it’s really that simple.

Waking up and finding yourself in Mist is not the most pleasant thing, especially when you’ve just spent the night in a nice warm bed, but the Mist wasn’t the only thing that was bothering me. I was no longer in my favorite PJ’s, but was in a sleeveless white gown, something I didn’t own and had never even seen before.

The worst thing was that I knew I was awake, and that I knew what I was in, and I knew I was lost. I can’t describe how scared I was at that moment, I almost started to hyperventilate.

Despite my near panic-attack, I tried to find my way out, to get back to my world, well, not my world, I was in my world, but the normal world. Except that… I couldn’t, no matter which way I turned, no matter how many steps I took, I was still in the Mist, no closer to my home or my bed.

Finally, my feet gave out on me and I lowered myself to sit down, but didn’t. Instead, I found myself falling through the Mist, a truly terrifying event. I didn’t know how high up I was, or what was around me, or even if I was close to the ground, if it existed.  My hair was all around me, blocking my sight as it wrapped around my face.  The skirt of my dress spiraled around, as if it was dancing around me, creating some enchantment.  My lips became dry and cracked, and no matter how much I licked them, nothing  would change.  After about five minutes of falling, I realized something: I wasn’t actually falling. I was simply standing in the Mist with air being blown at me, which didn’t make any sense. But I tried walking away, and, to my surprise, it actually worked. I walked out of the wind gust and actually found a difference.

In the Mist, there were several mirrors, at least, they appeared to be mirrors, though no reflection showed on their surfaces. They were lined up so that there were eight, side to side, and each had an intricate symbol carved into their left hand side. I knew what each symbol meant, after all, I had created them. They represented each of the main races of my word: Elves, Fairies, Pixies, Trolls, Vampires, Werewolves, Humans, and Dwarves.

Even though I understood the symbols, I didn’t understand why they were on the mirrors, because I had no memory of ever creating them. 

I wanted to reach out, to touch one of the mirrors, they each had a magnetic force that seemed to be pulling me to them, and I knew I would have to decide one soon enough. There was no choice, I was only allowed to choose, not refuse.

I didn’t know why, but I knew it would be an important decision, one that would shape me for the rest of whatever time I had in my imaginary world. Too bad that time was spent much longer than I would have preferred, but then again, some things cannot be rushed, because if I had rushed through my jobs, I would have screwed things up and had to start all over again from scratch.

Finally, I chose my favorite race: the elves. I loved everything about elves, how they moved, how they looked, their way of life and peace. I was entranced by what I had loved and morphed to my perfect image. I didn’t know what would happen, all I knew was that I wanted to start it off with something I loved, something that would most certainly change.

My fingers reached out and touched the symbol of the elves, causing it, and the whole mirror to glow, like a golden light was within and trying to break free. Finally, the glowing stopped for a millisecond, revealing an elfin figure that looked strangely familiar, even if that wasn’t possible.

The millisecond having passed, the glowing returned, more powerful than ever, bursting out of the mirror and encompassing everything around it, even the Mist. The golden light actually made the Mist disappear. Not only did the light seem to surround me, but enter me, filling me up, as if it was trying to change me, whether or not I wanted change to occur. The whole process only took a few seconds, and at the end of it, I passed out.

Each time that day, it would prove that waking up would hold changes for me.  I have never forgotten my first day in my new body.

* * *

The sun peaked through the windows and tempted my eyelids to part, facing my new day and my family problems. Trying to hide from everything, I reached for my blanket to pull it over me, hiding the evil glow. What I ended up grabbing was not my comforter, but something scratchy that caused me to itch.

My eyes shot open and I looked around the room, what most certainly was not my room. It was very bare, with wood floors, walls, furniture, very simple, not even one poster of any musician or anything. The only thing it had in common with my room was a bookshelf, though the books were nothing alike whatsoever.

Throwing off the… blanket, I rolled out of bed and stretched. That was when I noticed that something was off. My eyes moved down and grabbed what I was wearing: a white undershirt with somewhat billowy at the sleeves under a brown vest with brown leather pants. Not something anyone would sleep in unless they were too tired to change and just fell asleep clothed.

Sure enough, the clothes were somewhat rumpled and wrinkled.  I was just confused.  When I  ran my fingers through my hair in the normal world, they stopped at my shoulders, where my hair was supposed to end.  However, my fingers found that there was still hair, much more hair. I grabbed a lock and brought it to my eyes, seeing that not only was it much longer, it must have gone down to my waist, but that it was also raven black, instead of my normal brown. The next thing I noticed were the fingers, they were pale, very pale indeed. I may not have been tan as a human, but I was no Snow White, which seemed like nothing compared to this skin.

Now the panic struck, causing me to look around desperately for a mirror. There was none hanging on the wall, so I had to shift through different drawers until I found a simple hand-mirror and held it to my face.

I almost dropped it in my shock. My skin was truly pale, and my face framed by black locks. But that wasn’t the most shocking, my baby-fat was gone, left instead was a sharp and angular version of my old face. The only thing that hadn’t changed were my eyes, the same muddy-brown. The last thing to draw my eye’s attention were my ears. They were long and pointed.

My hand moved up to touch them, and as they brushed against the tips, they twitched. My ears twitched, and not only my fingers felt it, but my ears felt it as well.
I was also taller, at least 5’9”, four inches taller than before.

My body felt strange, balanced like it hadn’t been before. It was like all the pieces were put together perfectly with no gaps or mistakes and I could move without tripping over my feet.

There was no explanation for why I felt like this, except that I knew there was something I needed to take care of. Rolling up my left sleeve, I looked at my palm and saw the elfin symbol for fire. It was simple, I was a fire elf, and somehow, I had been transformed into one. 

With this realization, the memories of my last waking came back to me, of the Mist, the mirrors, and that golden light. My mind went back to what had caused this, remembering everything before I had fallen asleep, and Madame Lethur’s words came back to me, ‘I give you that pair on the condition that you always keep them in this bag when you are not using them.’ She had meant it as a warning, and it was something I had followed perfectly, until last night.

Now it made sense, everything made sense… well, not everything. But there was something magical about that journal and pen, and the bag was meant to contain that. All I could do was jump for joy, I was free of my dad, free of tests, homework, of being a human! Not only was I something different, I was something powerful and graceful: I was an elf.

Everything seemed so perfect, and I was so excited I didn’t notice that the insignia on my hand beginning to glow. Before I could stop it, a small fireball flew out of my hand and hit a nearby chair. Panicking, I grabbed a nearby water basin and threw it at the fire. Luckily, it went out without any difficulty.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I sat on the now somewhat burned chair, which collapsed under me. Finding the perfect opportunity, I cursed out in the elfin language, never having been able to do so in the normal world.

My eyes began to wonder, until they settled on a spot on the bookshelf. It took my eyes a few seconds to realize that my journal, the precious leather book which described every bit of the world was sitting on that bookshelf. I attempted to push myself up, but my newfound strength broke through the wood. That was not good, because elves homes were formed from trees, and to repair it, a tree-singer would need to be called.

Once again cursing, though not out of pleasure this time, I slowly got up and headed to the bookshelf. My new hands picked up the journal and opened it. I was glad to see that all of my work was still there, and that the pages were still endless.  There was so much I forgot about my world, because I just wrote and never looked back.

That wasn’t the only use the journal had for me, though I had yet to realize it. Stupid, I was such an idiot, but somehow, I think this was an important journey, at least for me. I’m still not sure about everything about that happened myself, but that’s how things are, and you can’t change everything, well, I can, but only in my worlds.

Turning my eyes back to the shelf, I saw a glint, and my hand pounced for the crystal object. I felt it’s cool edges in my hand, I could feel the liquid ink moving inside of it. All my senses were sharper than ever, and I grinned at the adventures I could have as an elf.

There was only one problem, which I realized as I looked back down at the rumpled clothes that covered the body that was mine, but yet, not mine. It had obviously belonged to someone else, otherwise the clothes would not be rumpled, the hair not black, and the somewhat bad breath that showed a night of drinking. Whoever had previously owned this body liked to party, or there had at least been a celebration the previous night.

I just hoped whoever her friend’s were didn’t mind the differences they would find when they met me. I didn’t know anything about this elf girl except that she was a fire elf. Even though I didn’t have the right personality for a fire elf, I was never aggressive enough and I still hate confrontation to a certain point, I had still always wanted the ability to control fire.

To be able to control something as wild and destructive, yet altogether as beautiful as a flame, to be able to feel its heat in your palm, yet never burn, to start a mass of destruction with just one little spark, it all intrigued me.

Suddenly, a little tingling sound permeated the air and sent my ears twitching to find the source of the sound. It was an easy thing to do, it was someone singing outside, below my window. The song struck a cord in my heart, it was so happy, so pure and full of love, I wanted that song to be song to me… and my mind clicked. Maybe that song was being sung to me, I wanted to believe that, even if the song wasn’t being sung to me as a person, but me, the body.

I glided to the window, using my new graceful legs to carry me, and peered downwards, smiling as the music filled me. My hair fell don, covering half of my face.

“Lani, come down here!” a masculine voice called out as my head poked through the window. I couldn’t see what he looked like, so I pulled my hair out of my line of sight. I was pleased to see he was very handsome indeed, and that he was obviously strong.

Elves, at least my version, did not show muscle unless they were extremely strong by elf standards, and I could definitely see some muscles on this guy. He was tan, with shoulder length blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. He’s the first face I saw with my new eyes, the first voice I heard with my new eyes, and I was so glad that it was him.

I waved back and called, “In a minute,” in elfin. It seemed that I automatically slipped into the native language of the Isle of Elenuar, the Isle of Elves. Every main race had their own land, or, at least, half of a land if they did not coexist.

I don’t know why I did it, other than that I was excited. I jumped out of the window and landed gracefully on the ground with a large smile on my face. I had forgotten that I was still wearing clothes from the precious day.

Whoever the male elf was, he picked me up and gave me a kiss on the lips, my first. I would have pushed him off, but it felt so good; his warm, soft lips pressing tenderly against mine.

He then stopped, and stared at me curiously. I realized that I must have done something wrong, I wasn’t used to kissing at that time, and felt I had probably not done a good enough job.

He placed me on the ground, and then quickly scanned himself, picking up parts of clothing from his body and examining them, like he was seeing if something was missing.

I cocked my head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He chuckled, “I’m just surprised that I’m not burned to a crisp. Are you drunk on that moonberry wine from Old Samel’s death party?”

When he mentioned a death party, I understood why I was dressed up mildly fancy clothes. There had been a celebration to say goodbye to Samel, an ancient tired of life, so he was going to end his. Elves live so long, when they can no longer take it and find the have no more to do, they end their lives. It may seem morbid, but it’s less morbid then living for eternity, watching everything that isn’t on your home land change.

“Why would I burn you to a crisp?” I asked, confused. He was such a gorgeous elf, and he would be simply marvelous as a human, how could anyone hurt him? And he was such a good kisser.

He rolled his eyes, “Truthfully, I don’t know. You burn me so much and… hey, are you alright Lani? You’ve never acted like this before, least, not to me.” He had a genuinely concerned look on his prefect features, I can still remember how rapid my heart rate became as my brown eyes met his green.

I realized my mistake and cursed at myself for not knowing anything, “Listen, OK? I have a headache, and I can’t remember things exactly, so I’m sorry, alright?” I snapped at him, thinking that might make things a bit better.

“Now there’s the Lani I know and adore, and exactly how much don’t you remember? Enough for me to give you another kiss?” He had a devilish smirk on his face.

It was obvious that ‘Lani’ would never do something like that.  She smirked and controlled herself as she let her fingers begin to spark, “You blew your chance when you stopped it the first time. My memory may not be good, but you shouldn’t push your luck loser.”

He looked at me curiously, “Loser? What’s a loser?” I realized that I had slipped up and said a human word that did not exist in elfin.

“Loser, it’s what you are, you son-of-a-troll!” It wasn’t the worst insult, and if we were as close as I guessed, he wouldn’t do anything to harm me. However, if I had been mistaken, then let’s just say a very bad fight would have occurred, and I had guessed his element, which put me at a great disadvantage.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that Lani, and the name’s Gregor, if you were too blubbering drunk to remember.” I could feel the tips of my long ears turn red, he had me. I made elves to sharp for my own good, it would make it hard to pull off living as an elf if I didn’t even know my best friend’s name.

“I know you’re name, Gregor, but who says I wanted to use it? Calling you a loser seems more appropriate,” I snickered and leaned against the trunk of my tree house.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright Lani, and we need to get to work getting rid of some weeds. You need to be in tip top shape to flame those babies to oblivion.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together, it was obvious he enjoyed his work.

“Yeah, right. Um, but should I get changed?” I accidentally slipped back into Tammy mode. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to wear the same clothes two days in a row, especially since I was wearing death party clothes.

He smirked, and instantly I knew I was going to regret asking that, “You know you can’t be burned, but clothes can, or have you even forgotten the basics taught in the El’s school?”

“Wait, in other words, I have to be…” I balked at the idea o even saying the word.

“Naked,” he finished for me, still smiling, “as a fresh born human babe.”

“Ok, let me just put away these clothes and-“ I started to try to find the entrance to my house when he grabbed my arm and said, “You never wear the same clothes twice Lani, you burn them everyday and have craft a new one for yourself in minutes on a slow day.” He was serious, and I knew I would have to keep up a somewhat illusion of Lani.

“Fine!” I spat at him and fired up my hands. I grabbed my clothing and they burst up into flames. By my creation, elves are perfectly fine with nudity, and clothes are only used in the winter and personal style.

He grinned and began to walk, leading the way down the paths of the elfin forests, though not saying a word. I enjoyed the beauty of the towering tree homes, the music of the wind bowing around me. It was such an experience, better than I had written it. I still have a special place in my heart for Elenuar, it was too beautiful for words to fully capture, yet somehow, it was all real.

Finally breaking the silence, Gregor spoke up, “So, how much DO you remember exactly Lani? I know you’ve lost a bit here and there from drinking so much, but you seem a bit… different than usual, less prickly I suppose.”

I stopped and stared at him, I was a really bad actress.  I wasn’t sure how much I should tell him, how much I could trust him. If Lani was his best friend, how would he react to me being her?

After waiting for a response, but not getting one, Gregor grabbed my chin and yanked my face so that we were facing each other, our eyes connected by what seemed to be a string of energy.

After what seemed like an eternity, he let go of me with a somber expression on his face, “You’re not Lani, are you? Your eyes are wrong.”

I gulped and tried to cover, “What are you talking about Gregor? I just got a bit drunk last night, you know? Not that surprising that I’m still a bit foggy is it?”

He shook his head, “No, your eyes aren’t hers. You may both have brown eyes, but she has these little specks of red there as well.”

My eyes widened as I realized something, no matter where I went, my eyes would be the same. I didn’t quite understand what that thought meant at that moment, but later on it would become perfectly clear what my epiphany meant.

“Does it really matter who I am?” I hoped it wouldn’t, he was too gorgeous and I didn’t want to have to let him go.

He sent a glare straight at me that made my heart stop for a moment, “Yes, it does matter. Where in the Mist is she?” His eyes were beginning to glow, something I did not want to happen. If he fought me, with his experience and element, I was going down, no questions asked.

I managed to stutter out, “I-I-I don’t k-know where she is. I just woke up in the M-mist, then woke up and a-again and found myself h-here.” I was shivering a little bit, scared of what might happen if he believed me.

His eyes widened from his narrowed glare, and the glowing ceased. Instead, a mixed look of awe and terror surfaced on his face as he understood the gravity of my words.

“The Mist,” he muttered, as if not believing it, “the last thing to come out of the Mist was the teleportation discs for the different lands, and that was centuries ago… I wasn’t even alive then.” The Mist was not something to be messed with under any circumstances. It was the cause of the creation of Marchial, and what had brought peace to it in the centuries past.

“Yeah, I may not be from this world, but you could say that I know quite a bit about it.” I wasn’t going to tell him that I was the creator, that would just sound crazy. Even in a world with magic, there were still limits to how much someone would believe out of their normal spectrum of knowledge. “And if we’re going to get any deeper into this, can I suggest either skipping work or talking about it afterwards, and with me clothed. I know it’s not a big deal here, but where I’m from, people just don’t walk around stark nude very often.”

“Yes, perhaps one day wouldn’t hurt… it’s not like our job isn’t voluntary, and any one who saw it could do it I suppose. And let me guess, you don’t want to make your clothes,” He cocked his eyebrow. He knew I had her body, and her body memory, but definitely not her knowledge of sewing. I had never even picked up a needle, let alone tried to sew anything.

“Yeah, that plan is not in my agenda,” I wasn’t sure whether or not we would continue talking informally, or take up the air that most elves do with each other, polite and courteous.

Sighing, he shook his head and began taking a different pathway, “I shall escort you to my house, where you can be clothed and we can talk in peace.” That was at least somewhat formal, but not the maximum level, which meant that he wasn’t going to completely isolate me.

I followed him until we reached a grove of tree houses, obviously where he lived. There was a large oak tree with the water symbol where the door was, and that was the house we had entered. I had been right, he was a water elf, which would made perfect sense. Water and fire, while not compatible as elements, work very well together as personalities. Easygoing water, and easy to enflame fire, they compliment each other.

Entering his house, it was very… elegant and tasteful. Drawings and paintings hung on the walls, depicting ancient battles of the elves against the other main races during the war years. It gave of a sense of fun, showing the owner’s interests as well as making it comfortable and creating a balance between art and history.

Going to his closet, he grabbed a small tunic, well, too small for him, and a pair of leggings. Putting them on, I sat on a soft moss chair, it was very comfortable.

Taking a seat opposite of mine, he looked at me seriously and asked, “What are you?”

Even though I wouldn’t be able to tell him everything, I knew that there were some things I could tell him, “I was human, but not from Marchial, I’m from beyond the Mist.”

“So, do you have any idea why you’re here?” He was taking this surprisingly calm, but something told me that he was just trying to control himself.

“I made a mistake, I broke a promise. The price of that promise was this, and no, Lani is not in my world, that much I’m sure of.” I wasn’t going to let him ask me about that more than necessary, I just hoped he wouldn’t pry too much into things that even I couldn’t explain to him.

He ran his large fingers through his sunny locks, “You, are you a special human, or was this just chance?”

I smirked, “You should know that anything that comes from the Mist is special, whether or not it was created there.”

“Ah, you have me there. Now, will you tell me what you were called when you were a human? I don’t wish to call you by any name other than yours.” My heart sank a bit, the more we talked, the more he slipped into a formal line of speech. It was slow, but it was an obvious descent.

I considered for a moment before answering, “No, I don’t think I will tell you Gregor. It does neither of us any good, and if we are to keep the illusion that I am Lani, then it is best to lower the chance of slip ups.”

He shot out of his seat, knocking it backwards as his eyes seem to burn, “You have no right to be Lani, none whatsoever! I shall not defile my lips be calling you by the name of my beloved when you are not she!”

I sat calmly, though I was shivering on the inside. That was one of the most terrifying moments in my entire life, seeing and elf become angry is a tremendous and terrifying sight. And with their immense power, the chances of anyone other than an elf or a god defeating them is very slim.

“Listen,” I said in a steady voice, “I know you love her, I’m not asking for that love. All I’m asking is that we keep my existence a secret, which I will need your help for. When this comes to and end,” I had no idea if that would ever truly happen, “then I shall tell you all I know, but only then. I have too much knowledge to tell just anyone.” This was the truth, because I probably knew more about the world he lived in than anyone else, save for the High Council, and even then, I knew all the past, all the heroes and villains that existed before the wars ended, because I had created all of them.

He pulled the chair back up and sat down on it, the glow of those gorgeous eyes calming. He was perfect, and yet, there was no chance I could have him. He loved Lani, and no matter how much I looked like her, I wasn’t her. I knew he was thinking about the kiss, and I had to put a stop to that, nothing would change it, and it was by accident.

“Forget what happened this morning, it was no betrayal on your part. And, may I ask your true situation with Lani, because I would hate to portray her as anything less than she was.”

“Is, she still exists, and, well, we have been close since birthing, only ten years apart in age. Now, everyone wants us together, even me, but she persists against it. Why, I do not know. But she is a beauty. Even when she scorches me, she is careful not to cause any permanent damage. And when working, I can see that she is truly and peace among the burning weeds. She has never once betrayed me, and she once told me she cares for me greatly, though she did not explain further than that.”

My heart collapsed, I wanted this guy to love me, he just seemed so perfect. That, if it were me, we could be happy forever. The only problem was that as long as he cared for Lani, until he truly knew her feelings, nothing would change. If only I knew what as in Lani’s mind, I had her body, why not her heart?

“Alright, now Gregor, can you talk to me, please, like you talk to Lani. At least when we’re in public. I don’t want anyone to become confused about our relationship, if I’m to truly act her out.” That was only partially true, I wanted to be Lani as much as possible for him. It didn’t matter that I had just met him, he was perfect, sweet and caring, he was just the elf for me. It never even entered my mind that I wouldn’t be there forever,

“Alright, I will, but you better be damn good at being Lani, or I swear by the Mist-“

“Swear by the Mist and not good shall come of it. I know everything about the Mist, and trust me, you don’t want anything to do with that cursed thing.”

“Well, speaking of which, how much do you know of our culture. I doubt some mere ex-human could know much of our lifestyle if they don’t even belong in this world.” He was trying to show me up, and my image of him shattered. He was angry, yes, but there was no reason to take it out on me.

“Test me on anything concerning Marchial, not just the elves, and I am sure I will pass. Even if it predates even the Ender coming and creating peace between us!” He would not belittle me, I was the reason he existed, and though I would not tell him that, I did not want to seem like some bumbling idiot.

He looked taken aback, as if his strategy had failed, but he wasn’t going to let me go that easily, “Alright, we’ll start slow. What are the five types of elves?”

I rolled my eyes, that was a truly easy question, “Easy: fire, water, wind earth and healer. And healer has two subclasses: mental and physical. You’re water, I’m fire.”

“Alright, now a bit more general question. What is the High Council and how was it formed? Even a babe should be able to answer that,” he had a sparkle in his eye, but at that moment, I mistook it for smugness, instead of what it really was.

“The High Council is Marchial’s ultimate form of guidance. There is one representative from each of the Main Race: Elf, Fairie, Pixie, Troll, Vampire, Werewolf, Human, and Dwarf. It was formed about a millennium ago while the Main Races were still fighting for control over the lands.

“A mysterious orb appeared out of the Mist and traveled to the then empty 7th land. Each race sent their best and brightest after it and for the first time, all eight races came together at once, not to fight, but to fill their curiosity.

“The orb created an image that filled the sky; an image that portrayed how Marchial could be if only there was peace. It showed us living together, not fighting, but laughing, and High Council that resided to keep peace.

“Those eight that were there that day became the first High Council, with one mysterious Head of Council. No one, not even the Council Chairs, know who or what the Head of Council is, but it is known that any who cross the Head of Council shall not last long.

“They convene once a month on the 7th land, and in times of emergency. Among many of their duties, they end threats to the peace, give blessing to children, make appearances at festivals between races and other such occasions.

”The orb itself is called the Ender, because it ended the wars and whenever a crucial decision is made, it gives its final opinion by projecting images.”

Gregor grinned from ear to ear, the smugness gone, “Very good Fake Lani, you are indeed knowledgeable of the basics, though I never heard that the High Council couldn’t make their own decisions, nor do I think anyone else has.”

My eyes widened as I realized my mistake. I used too much of my knowledge to try and show him up, and I had barely even begun describing the intricacies of the world itself.

“So, I ask an answer once again, nothing great, just tell me who you are. That much is what I want, so that I know whom I am dealing with,” he wasn’t going to take no as an answer.

“And what shall you do if I refuse?” I wanted to here how evil he truly was, or if I could call his bluff.

Very femininely, he twirled a lock of his hair as he said in an innocent, “I shall send word to our representative, who will call council, and then they will do with you as they wish.”

I smirked, “The council has no control over me, I know what they crave, and they won’t harm me for that, nor do I think they would even be able to destroy even if they wanted to. Remember, I’m not from this world, so the law’s don’t apply to me.”

“But they do apply to your body,” he pointed out.

I glared at him as he continued to smirk, “I don’t think you want to trifle with me Gregor, I know secrets about the elves that would pale your skin!”

“Then by all means tell them, I have a right to know the truth!” his words expressed challenge, though his eyes showed enjoyment. I finally understood that he wasn’t testing me, he was playing with me, he was treating me like Lani. My whole body tingled at the idea that he was accepting me, as I was, not as Lani.

“No, I don’t I want to, though I shall answer your first questions, if you specify them,” I just hoped that I wouldn’t have to lie to him, I didn’t want to have to lie to those beautiful emerald eyes.

He smirked, thinking he had stumped me, “Your name, your age, who you are as a person. That should be good enough, and anyway to fix this situation.”

“I have no clue as to fix this, but my name is Tamera, or Tammy, as my friends would call me. I am sixteen years old, young by elf standards, still young by human. I had one good friend, and spent most of my time with tales, first reading, then writing them.” I tried to sound as eloquent as possible, imagining the words coming out of my mouth before I even dared speak them, making sure every word was perfect, yet there was still that which I would have changed if I had another chance.

“So, Tammy, what was the promise you broke? It must have been very large if it sent you away from your friend.” He got up and grabbed a pitcher of water and poured a glass, but only one. At first, I thought he was being rude, but then he handed the glass to me, “You must be thirsty after answering my questions and such, and you still have talking to do.”

“Thank you,” I muttered as I took a sip. The water was sweat and the ultimate thirst quencher. “Well, I didn’t even really know that I broke it until I found myself in the Mist. I was supposed to keep this notebook and pen in a bag, but I was so tired that, after finishing my writing, I collapsed from exhaustion. It was an accident, but accident or not, I’m here.”

“Well, where did you get this notebook, do you still have it?” he seemed to be really interested. But then again, if it had to do with getting his Lani back to him, he would do anything, I could tell that when he first said the words ‘beloved’.

I placed the water down before answering, “I got it from this shopkeeper in my world. Her name was Madame Lethur, well, that’s what everyone called her. And yes, I still have it, but I don’t think it’s a good idea if I show it to you. It has knowledge of… of my world, and the information there would cause havoc and destroy this one, that much I do know.”

His eyes widened as I mentioned Lethur, though I did not question it, a big mistake on my part. I find that I made a lot of mistakes during the beginning of my days in Marchial… not to say that I’m not still making mistakes.

Finally speaking, he said, “Alright, but I will have to a least see the outside of it at sometime, it may reveal your way back home.”

“Yes, but that is enough of that for now, I want to enjoy the sites and such for now, can we please loser?” I wanted to see how far I could go with him.

“Oh, you call me a loser, do you? I can tell your intent, even if you speak in another tongue. Speaking of which, how much do you know of our languages?” He converted to Alltongue, the language that was spoken in every land, so that everyone could converse with each other. Most races had their own language, but the humans made it their only one, having a hard enough time understanding one, let alone two.

I answered one word in each of the eight languages, "I can speak all of the tongues Gregor”

His eyes showed that he was impressed, “And I suppose it would do me no good to ask how you know so much?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“None whatsoever. I can only reveal so much in one day, and you have pushed me to my limits,” he wasn’t getting anymore out of me, not that day, not until I was readjusted and my buzz of starting a new life faded.

“Alright Tammy… that’s a strange name. What is with you humans and naming anyways?”

“Well, excuse us, naming is a cultural thing, and we can’t all be as ‘graceful’ and ‘elegant’ in naming as elves now can we?” I stuck my tongue at him, something that I would never have expected and elf to do, even if I was controlling her body.

His eyes glowed as he flicked his hand and sent the remaining water straight into my face, “Well, not all humans, but you seem to be the exception my dear.”

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” I chuckled as my eyes tried to glow and a flicker appeared on my fingers, only to spark out.

Gregor began to chuckle, “Seems you forgot what happens when you fire elves become wet.”

My eyes’ glow simmered down and I took a deep breath before pouncing on him and punching him in the chest. I would never hit that face, it was too gorgeous for anyone to even think of maiming.

“Ow, Tammy! Stop it!” he jokingly begged as I continued to punch him. I had never had such power before, or even been able to cause any damage. Just a weak little girl filling out her fantasies by reading. But in this world, I thought I could live out all those adventures I had been dreaming of, every last one.

Finally tired of swinging my arms at him and causing minimal damage, I may have strength, but he had a very good defense system, I fell down on top of him, and relaxed. I didn’t even care that it was someone, it was warm and comfy, and that was all that mattered.

“Um, Tammy?” Gregor questioned as he tried to push me off of hi, but I didn’t really care. Nothing was getting me off of him. “Tammy, I swear, if you don’t get off of me right now I’m going to splash you!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I murmured into his chest. I was slowly loosing consciousness, though I didn’t really care. I had gone through so much, even if it didn’t seem like I had only woken an hour or two ago.

I don’t remember what happened after I fell asleep, except that a pair of arms wrapped around me and I heard a sigh of defeat: it was like the perfect lullaby.

* * *

I woke up to darkness. My eyes quickly adjusted and I saw that I was in the room I had woken up in that morning. I looked around for Gregor, but he wasn’t there. My logic told me he had carried me back here then left me alone once he saw I was alright. I couldn’t help but want him there, he was so nice. He was funny, and cute, and sweet, and a bit obnoxious, but in a funny way, much better than Drey.

And it was that one name that brought me back to what was happening. I was in a place I didn’t belong, in a body that didn’t belong to me. I might never see Melissa or my dad again. I wouldn’t graduate high school, or get a boyfriend, or a job or any of the things that I had expected to do with my life. Everything changed because of that stupid book.

I was tempted at that moment to take the book and throw it out the window if I got my hands on it, but I didn’t even move to find it. I just wanted to be back where things were normal, where I could be myself, and where things made sense. Magic was fine and good, but it wasn’t supposed to exist! That’s why there were stories about it, fictional, as in not real.

As all these thoughts were running through my head, I didn’t even notice that I had begun to cry. It was only when my cheeks were soaked did a reach my hand up to discover the strands of nonstop tears streaming down my cheeks.

I brought my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth, replaying my favorite memories over and over, seeing the smiles, the laughter, a good grade in English, that moment I first held the pen.

Then my mind went to my mother, who I wanted more than anything. She had been gone for four years, and I still wanted her back. She was perfect, pretty, smart, nice. She never scolded me, only encouraged me to do my best. I just wanted to make her happy, but she wasn’t there anymore, so I couldn’t do that.

I never believed in heaven, not then, and not now. I am a firm believer of reincarnation, so everyday, I would pray that Mom would be reincarnated and give birth to me again when it was my time. I wanted to be with her that badly.

The memory though, what I remembered about her was something so small, so trivial, most people would wonder why I even bothered remembering it.

I was five and wanted to make a Father’s Day breakfast for my Dad, so I woke up early. I was too short to reach anything without a stool, so I grabbed a chair and stood on it as I did my best to copy what I had watched my mom do every morning.

I ended up setting off the fire alarm and waking up my parents at 6 o’clock in the morning. I was yelled at by "Daddy Dearest" but not Mom. She didn’t say anything. She just picked me up and together we started cleaning up my mess.

She didn’t try to comfort me, or scold me, she just showed me how to fix the mess I had created and smiled. That was her way, doing, not saying. She always treated people kindly, though said little to them.

The last bit, the bit of her smiling, I focused in on that thought and nothing else. I wanted to imagine that smile in my mind, burn it there, never leaving me so that I could always have her face in my mind.

Everyone said I looked like her, except for her hair. She had the most beautiful brown waves of hair that have ever been seen. Sure, I could change my hair to match hers, but I didn’t want to be a copy of my mom, because no matter what I did, nothing would bring her back.

As time has gone by, that image is still in my mind, the strongest memory I have, and it has kept me from despair many a time. I don’t think I loved anyone as much as I loved my mom, because she was simply a sweet person who cared for everything and everyone, whether big or small, poor or rich.

I know I’m making her out to be a saint, but she wasn’t. She had her flaws, but in my mind, she could do no wrong. I was only with her for twelve years, and most of them I never spent really paying attention to her. When I finally started learning why I loved her, and hearing her stories about her life, she disappeared. The only thing left were those stories, they were my connection to them, so I grabbed on hard and did my best to enjoy them.

If I really thought about it, I would have realized that without my mom having died, I probably wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. I wouldn’t have been obsessed with fantasy if she hadn’t died, wouldn’t have spent a good portion of my weekends trying to connect with my mother, being someone that could be compared to her, that someone could truly say that I was her daughter.

When I could finally cry no more, I rubbed my eyes and wrapped myself in the mossy blanket upon the bed. It was strange, soft and comfortable, but still strange to use. Once again, I found myself exhausted and passing out.

I had no idea what time it was, only that it was nighttime, and that there was no one I could go to, not even Gregor unless I wanted to chance disturbing his slumber. I was by myself, and that was the second to last thought in my mind before I slept.

The last thought I had was of a woman smiling at her five year-old daughter.

Chapter 1: Creating the World and Then Some

“Tams, get your nose out of that book and pay attention to what I’m saying!” I heard my best friend snap at me in her high, annoying voice. People would never let me just sit and read back then, it was so obnoxious.

“What is it Melissa?” I asked, trying to put on my best "fake attention" voice. I really didn’t care about what she had done over the weekend, all I wanted to do was finish my book, especially when I had gotten to the most interesting part.

She rolled her eyes at me, let’s see, I think for the fifth time that day, and said, “I was trying to tell you that you missed a completely awesome chance to see a movie with me and Drey on Saturday, where were you?”

God, Drey, Melissa’s brother, completely cute, completely smart and completely obnoxious. I could never talk to him without it ending in a screaming match of some sort. He always blamed it on me, but I knew better.  He always knew what to say to tick me off, and even when I tried to count to ten, then twenty, or whatever number, it never worked. It was like he had the key to my anger, and opened its door whenever he saw fit.

“You know how I am with Drey, and besides, a new book came out, so I had to read it.”

Melissa let out a sigh and and looked at me, “Tams, there’s always a new book out. Every single weekend it’s the same story, ever since you found those old books that belonged to your mom. You never spend any time with us anymore.” She had on a little pouty look which, under normal circumstances, would have lead to an immediate apology, but my eyes were focused elsewhere.

I was looking at the beautiful cover of my new book in hardback. The image depicted elves and fairies dancing in a meadow in the light of a setting sun in their forest. The details were so minute, each particle of them was done, beautifully. Whoever the artist was had truly enjoyed not just the book, but the essence of the book itself and wanted to express that to all the readers.

“Sorry,” I said, only partially paying attention, “but hanging out with Drey is my last idea of fun. And besides, why do you spend so much time with him, doesn’t he have his own friends?” He had to, I mean, he was 6’2”, brown hair, green eyes, muscled to perfection, and was witty. Sure, he was completely obnoxious, but tons of girls drooled over him, and usually hot guys stuck together.  He must have had equally hot friends, or mildly less hot, but either way, he had to have had friends.

She rolled her eyes at me, again, like she couldn’t believe what I had just said, “Drey’s only friends consist of dorks that spend their entire time online. He seems to have issues dealing with people in the real word unless they share DNA with him, so I try to show him, like, how fun it is to be a real human every once in a while.”

I blinked at her, dumbfounded, and finally closed my book, “Dude, I seriously thought he was over that when your parents cut off his subscription.”

“He found this new, free place online, and has been obsessed with it, being a warlock and whatever shiz. Anyways, please promise me that we’ll hang out this weekend. There’s a new movie coming out,” like there never wasn’t, “and I really want to see it with you. Besides, having another person there might help Drey out a bit. So pretty please, with sugar on top?” She was giving me that unholy look, the one that begged "If you don’t come, I’ll die with every second it was plastered on her face.

I gave up. I knew my book would be finished by then, and there wasn’t going to be anything good coming out this weekend, so, I thought, why not? Even though I knew she would dress me up in her clothes and makeup and make me prance around in front of guys at the theater, it was always fun hanging out with her. Even when Drey was there, we could still have fun as long as he didn’t open his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll come with you.” Before I could here her happy exclamation, I stopped her by saying, “but you’re just lucky no new books are coming out this week.”

“God Tams, you need to get your head out of those books. That stuff doesn’t even really exist.  I mean, elves may be pretty, trolls may be stinky, and fairies may be able to fly, but you’re never going to see any of it except in your mind, so why not see real things with your eyes instead?”

Now, she made a really good point; I would never be able to see any of these things other than in my head. The only issue was, somewhere, deep down inside of me, there was a small hope that that wasn’t true; that I would one day wake-up in a world full of magic. But here’s a saying that completely applies to me: be careful what you wish for. I’ll get back to the reason why later on.

No matter how much she said was true, I didn’t want to believe it, “So what if they’re not real? Just because something isn’t real doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

“Oh God, listen to yourself! It’s just make believe Tamara! If you’re so obsessed with books like that, why don’t you just go and write your own?” She picked up her books and walked out of the school library.  Sure, study hall was over, but it still was meant as an "Oh my God, you’re being such a bitch" shot at me.

The thing is, she had a point. I loved reading so much that I could even recite whole chapters of some of my favorite books. I knew different writing styles from different authors, and some of their bad habits when it came to writing. My papers in English were always A+’s, not something I could claim with the rest of my classes. All it would take was time, and I could start right away. The only thing I would need is an idea.

Not just an idea though, but something good. Something that I myself would love to read. Something that I could show to other people and find that they would love to read it as well. Something… good, but where would I find an idea like that?

I didn’t have any more time to think about it though. I had Algebra II next, and if I wasn’t there in one minute, then I would seriously be late, and that would mean a demerit on my slate, and that was something I did not want.

My usual seat next to Melissa was still open, so I hesitantly went down and sat next to her. I had to be the one to make the first move, “I’m sorry Melissa. You’re right, fantasy is just fantasy, and I should enjoy reality.” Yes, it was somewhat of a lie, but not completely. I had been reading too much, and I would have to stop. I would spend more time with her. Besides, you don’t get new ideas from old stories, you get them from new experiences. And my new experiences were going to start with Melissa, and something I was going to get after school.

Melissa didn’t say anything during the rest of the class, and she didn’t even look at me. I kept looking over her, partially excited, and partially nervous. I knew I could do what I had planned by myself, but I always liked having her around me, I just felt less… alone. Finally, when class and school were over, and Melissa had no more excuses to avoid me.

Turning to me as she packed up her things, she asked, “You’re seriously sorry?” She couldn’t seem to believe me, not that I couldn’t blame her. I was a bit of a flake, and I couldn’t help that I sometimes, well, almost always, preferred reading to other activities.

“Yeah, and we’re totally hanging out this weekend. And, if you don’t mind, I was planning on going hunting for something today, and while it may not be clothes, I could always use your help and opinion.” We were going shopping for something that would help me get my work started.

Melissa then got this look on her face, sort of like a tiger ready to pounce, “Oh, now what are we shopping for? Not clothes… so it must be something personal. Are we going for cutesy, punk, preppy, what kind of style?”

“Melissa, calm down. I need to get a notebook, some pens, and some sticky notes,” I knew that even before I said it, she would be disappointed by my words.

I’m not the biggest fan of technology. Computers hurt my eyes, cell phones confuse me, and the iPod my parents got me for Christmas is completely empty because I have no idea how to use it. This annoys my teachers because all of my work is turned in hand written.  Now, my handwriting is actually very nice, but because I don’t type up my work, the teacher’s sometimes refuse to give me full credit for it.  It’s not my fault I don’t like computers, blame the screens and the weird configuration of the keys on the keyboard. I’ve tried using a typewriter once or twice, my dad had one, but I still failed. My hands just don’t feel comfortable writing unless there’s a pen or pencil in my grip and some paper beneath it.

Like I had predicted, her grin dropped, “School stuff? Why do you need me for that?”

Now, it was my turn to roll my eyes at her, “It’s not for school. Something you said got me thinking, and I’ve decided to undergo a little… project, and I need supplies. And sure, I could do this alone, but it’s always more fun when I’m with you. Things are always more fun when you’re around, unless you’re interrupting my reading.”

“Well, you read too much. And I guess that I don’t have anything else to do, so sure. I’ll help you find something completely awesome. Now, what idea did I give you?” She seemed to have actually forgotten, and couldn’t even figure it out. She  could be such a ditz when things were completely obvious.

I decided to keep up the mystery though, “Well, it’s nothing big. And I’m going to keep it a secret, don’t want to jinx it or anything.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. If it was my idea, don’t I have a reason to know?” She crossed her arms. We were both packed up, so we got up and began walking down the hallways out of the school.

Slinging my backpack onto my shoulder, I tried to explain to her while keeping my joke alive, “Tell you what. If start the actual project itself within a week, then I’ll tell you.”

“What do you mean, actually start it? What other stuff do you need then writing stuff?” Still, even as she said it to herself, she didn’t understand what I was going to use them for. Sometimes I wondered how she could be in math honors and yet still be so clueless.

“Well, I need tools, yes, but there is one thing I can’t buy. If I can find it though, then I’ll tell you, ok?” The chances of me finding inspiration for a good story within a week were slim to none. People just don’t pull ideas out of thin air, now do they? It took time and effort to think of a good idea, didn’t it? I’d never heard of inspiration coming suddenly to someone. But now that I think back on it, instead of considering Melissa as the idiot, I think I was more suited for that title.

“Fine, but you have to promise me, otherwise I don’t trust you,” she stuck her hand out for me to shake and I knew that if I didn’t do it, I would be by myself, something I was not fond of.

I stuck my hand out and shook it, saying, “Ok, I promise. But seriously, what is the big deal?”

“Because, you sometimes keep your word, but you always keep your promises.” She had me there, I never broke a promise. I had broken my word, since I never understood the concept of giving someone your word, so it never really stuck with me. Promises though; I had yet to break a promise to anyone, because I made them so rarely.

So, out of the school we went, getting onto a bus headed downtown. Everybody knew that you didn’t go to the local Staples for cool supplies, you went to Madame Lethur’s.

Madame Lethur’s was owned by, well, Madame Lethur. A woman with wild pink hair and bottle-cap glasses. She was always dressed in loose, flowery dresses with tons of beads around her neck, wrists and ankles. She always said everything had a meaning, but she never explained what the meaning. Her shop was the best for writing, scrap booking, painting, anything.  It was basically an all access art store, but very unique, and usually only carried one of a kind things that she had designed herself. So, when it came to getting something, you either bought it then, or said bye bye to it forever, for nothing in her shop ever stayed for more than a week.

As we walked in, we were bombarded by the fume of lilacs, like they had just reproduced an ultra lilac and it had been mushed all over the place. It was almost enough to make anyone puke, except that we were prepared. Wrapping our noses up, we headed to the back of the store, which smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. No one ever understood how she separated the two smells, but it was a good thing they didn’t mix, otherwise no one would ever come into her shop, no matter how cool her things were.

The store, as usual, was dark and a mess. Books about cooking were next to sponges, clocks ticked out of time and pens were hanging from the ceiling as decoration.

And there, among the clutter and mess, was Madame Lethur, dressed in purple with green and brown beads weighing her down. I’d actually seen her without her glasses and weird clothes once, I swear she couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. The only issue was, that store had been around since before I was born.  My parents said they remembered her running the store, so why did she look so young?

“Greetings my chickpeas,” she greeted us in her song of a voice, “What have you two come here for today?”

“Well, I wanted a journal, pens, and sticky notes,” I said in a smallish voice. I always felt strange when I was around her.

At 6'1", she loomed over me and m pathetic 5'4".  Examining me, she lowered herself to my level and moved her gasses down her curved nose, her startling brownish-golden eyes staring into my plain dirt brown.

“I know just what you need, and what you need is not sticky notes,” before she could even let me protest, she moved behind her desk and pulled out a box covered in dust. She didn’t open it though, and instead, strangely enough, put it under her chair. Getting up on the chair, she reached up and grabbed a pen, though it was more like a beautiful piece of artwork. It looked like it was made of crystal, which wasn’t possible, and had a silver point. You could literally see ink inside of it, constantly moving back and forth, never settling, which was also strange.

She handed me the pen and said, “This is the tool you crave. Now all you need to do is find its mate, and I promise you a very good price on it.”

“But, seriously, this pen looks so expensive, even on it’s own. I only have, like thirty bucks, so I can’t afford anything expensive.” But it was too late, I had already fallen in love with that pen. If the journal was as entrancing as the pen, I would break my bank account to get it.  I had to have it.

“No worries child, just find it and it shall be fine. You have something important to do with that pen and its mate, so I shall only help you along the process by giving them to you.” She smiled as she sat down behind her desk. After a moment, she snapped at me, “Well, go on chickpea, look for it. You will not find what you are looking for just by standing around gaping at the pen. And I will not sell you that pen unless you find its mate, so start already.”

That definitely snapped me out of my daze, I couldn’t help it that I was in love, and I would not leave this store without that journal. Frantically at first, I began searching around in the normal books section, though I couldn’t find anything that seemed to fit. Nothing seemed good in comparison when it came to the pen. There was no journal or notebook that had crystal, nothing that seemed to flow. I was so confused.

I was obviously doing something wrong.  I decided to stop everything that I was currently doing, and instead of looking through everything, I slowly scanned the room. The pen was firm in my grasp, though I was careful not to cause it any damage, not knowing that was not possible. I could feel a sense of calmness emanating from it, strange as it sounded.

I still wasn’t seeing anything, but that wasn’t the only thing missing. I could no longer hear what was around me. I had completely forgotten about Melissa, but, if I think about it now, I believe she was staring at me like a freak, wondering what exactly I was l looking for. I can honestly say, that at that moment, I was gone from the world of reality, in my own little bubble, devoid of everything except for that pen and me. My eyes, on their own, closed themselves, taking away another one of my senses.

I took a deep breath before forcing my eyelids open. Suddenly, something drew my eyes’ focus to it, on the bottom shelf of a worn down bookshelf. It was a beautiful, leather bound journal. My feet pulled me to it, and my hands pulled it to my face.  I could smell the crisp, somewhat earthy scent of the cow’s hide. Opening the book, the pages made the sound of being opened for the first time, a gentle crack of the spine. Unlined, egg-colored pages awaited my eyes. After closing it, I  focused on the cover itself. Engraved in the leather was something very simple. It was a copy of the Sun, like the way a child would draw it.  There was a circle in the center with lines sticking out of the sides made of golden thread. Within the book there was a piece of ribbon, silver in color, which was meant as a placeholder.  Everything about it made me fall in love with it, even more then I already loved the pen.

I looked over to Madame Lethur and she smiled at me over the edges of her glasses, “You did good chickpea. Let us hope you fill it with good things, right? You will regret it if you do not.” She reached down and pulled out a simple bag, also tanned leather, obviously thick and sturdy. It looked like it was meant for adventures like those in the books I had read and would soon be writing. “You will need this as well, and don’t fear, I won’t charge you for it. But you shall need it. I give you that pair on the condition that you always keep them in this bag when you are not using them. If you do not, then I must charge you and extremely high price for that pen. It is not glass.”

I balked at her words; if the pen wasn’t glass, then what was it? There was not one bit of me that believed it was crystal. There was no way she was going to give me a crystal pen, a magnificent journal, and a large leather bag for less than thirty dollars.  It just wasn’t sane.

Melissa was the one that woke me out of my daze. She gently punched me on the arm, almost causing me to drop the pen and book, which I successfully kept in my grasp after a small moment of fumbling.

“Tams, you have to take this. This is the best freakin' deal ever, if you don’t take this then you are literally insane,” she pushed me towards the cash register.

Taking a deep breath, I placed them on the counter, almost reluctantly, not wanting to let them out of my grasp, “I’ll take them.”

Madame Lethur smiled at me in an all-knowing sense and placed the two unique items in the leather bag and said, “That shall be two dollars.”

“Wait, how much?” I knew she would put it within my price range, but I never expected it to be so cheap.

She then spoke in a riddle, “One for the journal, one for the pen, one for the ride there, and one for the ride back.”

“But, isn’t that four dollars then?” The first part of her riddle made some sense, but the second half was confusing. After a few other visits there though, I had figured out never to pay any attention to her words when she spoke like that, it never meant anything, not really. Well, it never affected anything as far as I could tell. I always forgot her words, so I could never really see if they happened to me, but something told me I wouldn’t forget these words, nor did I want to.

“You count how you count, and I count how I count. My two dollars now please,” she held out her hand, like she was a toll-man for a trail that would lead to a great adventure. I reached into my pocket and gave her the two dollars.

“Thanks,” I said before turning and leaving, Melissa at my heel.

“God, that was so-“

“Weird,” I finished for her, “yeah, I know. Didn’t you get a weird, I don’t know, vibe or something? When I was, like, looking for the journal?” I hitched the large bag over my shoulder, adding to the already somewhat heavy weight of the books within my backpack. The strange thing was, the leather bag was bigger, and could obviously hold more then my backpack, yet the idea of using it instead of my backpack never occurred to me.

“Yeah,” Melissa started, “I was trying to talk to you and all, but you were in a zone or whatever, nothing was reaching you until you found it. I’m seriously thinking about never going back there ever again.” I looked at Melissa and saw that she was dead serious.

We approached the bus stop just in time to climb aboard and take two seats, “Melissa, come on. She basically gave me three completely awesome things. I mean, two dollars? How more awesome can that be?”

She rolled her eyes at me, again.  I was seriously getting sick of it, “Yeah, and what sane person would do that? Even if the pen is glass, the bag and book are obviously worth something. At least fifty dollars, not a cent less. I seriously don’t think she is sane, like, dangerous.”

I let out a sigh, she was being so difficult, “We both know something is wrong with her, but she’s never done anything dangerous. Remember, some of the most interesting and successful people marched to their own drummer.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer someone who doesn’t drum at all. Anyways, I’m tired. That shop really gives me the creeps, so I think when we get off, I’m going straight home and taking a bath to wash the heeby jeebies off of me.” She gave a shiver to signal what she meant.

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as we approached her stop.

“Yeah, well, enjoy your meal,” she snickered as she hopped of the bus.

I knew it wasn’t the polite thing to do or anything, but when her back was turned, I flipped her off. Just because I cooked my own food, and good food at that, she always joked about how I was going to be a gourmet or something stupid like that.

I didn't have an option really, my dad always came home drunk and passed out in the late hours. Mom was dead, which had caused the drinking. He earned money, and always went to his job, it was the only place where he was close to happy. He worked so hard that he forgot about her. When work was over though, he needed something else to forget her, and that’s why he turned to booze.

I was truthfully surprised he had survived this long, that he was able to function like this. I wish I could say I loved him, that I could comfort him, but I wasn’t able to. The only real difference between when Mom was alive and when Mom was dead was that he drank. He worked in the late hours and came home late, and even on weekends he worked. He never even talked to me, it had always been Mom.

Maybe he was why I read so much, so I wouldn’t half to face my stupid home life, but that didn’t really matter anymore. No matter what people might have said, I was happy with my life. It was good: I had food, clothes, money, a friend. I really thought it was as good as life could get for a sophomore in high school.

After I got to my own house, I dumped my backpack on the ground, and headed over to my room, where I carefully placed the bag on top of my desk. Then heading over to the kitchen, I began to cook. I don’t even remember what I ate, just that it was spicy with a bit of sweetness.

The next week passed in a bit of a blur for me. I went to classes, chatted with Melissa, had a fight or two with Drey, and had a pop quiz on Jane Austen. Anything other than that, I cannot honestly say I remember. I do remember that my back hurt from carrying around two bags: my backpack and my new leather bag.

Before I knew it, it was Saturday, the day Melissa and I were going to the movies. We went over to her house where we showered together and looked through her closet. Well, it was more like she looked through the closet, and I watched in awe. I could never quite understand how she had so many clothes, and how what could fit her could fit me. She was really thin, and while I wasn’t Barbie or anything, I was definitely a bit more curvy in figure. But she always seemed to find the clothes of hers that fit me just right, yet looked perfect on her.

Sitting in a towel, I looked myself over.  I was nothing special, not ugly, a little bit cute I guess. I had straight, brown hair that went to my shoulders, pinkish skin, and brown eyes. I was just the result of my mom forgetting the Pill one night.

Handing me an orange top and white skirt, Melissa set out to find her own outfit. I did my best to put the clothes over myself, but there was one issue. Melissa, kind as she was, was as flat-chested as a washboard. Because of this, whenever I borrowed her tops, I had to make sure they were made of stretchy material, otherwise they would be too tight. The shirt she had given me did fit; actually, it fit really well. There was only one problem: it didn’t cover my stomach. I put on the skirt to see if it would go high enough to cover my bellybutton by itself, but no such luck. If I wasn’t a girl, then it would have fallen right off of me for lack of hips.

Now, my glasses looked pretty good I thought, I had slim frames that were more like half circles, so it gave me and educated, mature look… at least, I thought so. But when I was in this outfit, I looked like some porno librarian.

“Melissa, look at me! I look like such a slut!” I basically said in a high, whiny voice. I want to slap myself whenever I think about how whiny I could be back then.

Melissa finally tore herself away from her closet and looked me over, “It’s those glasses. Lose them and there shouldn’t be a problem. They’re only reading glasses anyways, right?”

Melissa was not supposed to know that, no one was supposed to know that I was farsighted. Don’t ask me why, but I wanted to seem smart so I always wore my glasses, even though it was annoying at times.

Not wanting to look like I had lost my cool, though that train was already gone and done three more round the world trips, I said, “Yeah, I guess.” Yeah, genius, wasn’t it?

Taking off my glasses, I took another look at myself. I really didn’t seem so sluttish without the glasses and, except for my stomach showing, I actually looked a bit nice.

“Alright, now you look less like a whore. You know, you really shouldn’t wear your glasses when you’re not reading, you’d totally get a boyfriend in, like, a minute.”

“Dude, if that was true, you would already have one. You’re much prettier then me Melissa.”  At least, I thought so. Now don’t get all weird on me, I’m straight, I just personally believe that, except for being flat chested, Melissa was pretty good looking. She had the blonde hair, blue eyes, stick thin, and short, about 4’9”. She looked so cute; I sometimes just wanted to eat her up.

“Uh, yeah no. You’re the one with the rack, not me,” she slipped into a little green dress that went just above her knees and was sleeveless. She began to tie up her hair in a high ponytail, but I stopped her.

“Don’t, your hair looks better down,” I did not want to talk about my rack. After all these years, one of the few things I still hate to talk about is my cleavage.

She sighed and looked in the mirror, “Alright, down it is, you ready?”

I grabbed my big leather bag and slung the strap over my shoulder, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Jeez, that thing is so big, you might as well use it as your backpack. It’d save you the energy of lugging around both of those big bags of yours,” She got up and slipped on some white flats.

Like I said, it never occurred to me, it occurred to my best friend, “Yeah, great idea. I’ll use it starting Monday.”

There was a knock on the door, then a voice following, one that I did not like, “Hey Mel, Mom and Dad were wondering when you and the Brat are leaving. They basically wanna know if I’m leaving the house tonight.”

“Shut up Drey!” I snapped through the door, “And we’re leaving right now, not like you’re welcome.”

He opened the door and looked me up and down, something that gave me the shivers, “Well, looks like you decided to dress up. What, are you going on a date or something?”

“No, you know Melissa, she likes to treat me like a doll.”

“Hey!”

“Well, it’s true. And I didn’t say it was a bad thing, but you know I prefer pants to skirts,” I tugged down at the bottom of the skirt a little bit, it was way too short for my liking.

She rolled her eyes, god, why did she do that so much, and said, “Well, you need a boyfriend. I’m focusing on my studies, but you need someone to get your nose out of the books for a good lip-lock session. And even though Drey is perfectly willing to, I doubt you’d be up for that.”

My eyes widened, and Drey’s practically shot fireballs out of his. I did not like Drey, he was too obnoxious for anyone to seriously like. And there was no way he liked me, he was always being such an a-hole, it was impossible, simpley and utterly impossible.

“Melissa, you shut your goddamn mouth or I swear I’m going to tell Mom about what you did when they were at that dinner party for their friend.”  Yeah, that was the obnoxious Drey that I knew and loathed, threatening his own sister like that.

“Yeah, well, are you coming or not?” She was obviously not phased by his threat, which threw Drey off a bit.

“N-no, I’m staying inside tonight. I don’t think I could take spending time with you brats,” he left the door open, but turned and headed to his own room.

“Melissa, seriously, can I change out of this? I’m gong to be flashing my panties whenever I’m sitting down,” I begged while we started heading out of the door.

“Tams, no. You are freakin’ hot and you should show it off. Listen, I won’t bug you about the reading thing for a whole month if you just relax for one night, OK?” We walked out of her house and headed down to the local movie theater, only ten blocks away from her house.

Even though I was dressed as a girl, I didn’t walk like how you would expect a girl dressed up like I was to walk. My shoulders were hunched over, my hips staying firm and unswaying, my feet clomping against the ground. It really was an annoying sight for Melissa. Here she had gone to all of the trouble to make me look awesome and I wasn’t using it.

Well, sorry Melissa, but I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. Actually, I think I’m more comfortable in someone else’s rather than my own. Strange how things work out, isn’t it?

Finally getting to the movie, we picked up our tickets, snacks, and went to our seats. It was a typical romance movie. Boy and girl get stuck on an island, they fall in love. Then they’re rescued and find out the shocking truth about each other, then they make up and blah blah blah. I can’t believe I saw so many of those movies, what a waste of time and effort. And this one movie caused me no end of hell.

This movie is what got my inspiration going. I started thinking about an island, and how different races could live on them and, before I knew it, I had an idea for an entire world. I had my inspiration, and it had been less than a week. That meant I had to keep my promise to my best friend and tell her what her idea had been.

After the movie was over and we were eating some ice cream, I spoke up, “Hey, you remember what I said about you giving me an idea?” I took a big spoonful of my cookie dough ice cream, but not enough for a brain freeze, and waited for her reply.

“Yeah, wait, are you going to tell me? Please tell me you seriously are and that you aren’t baiting me and shiz!” She was going into hyper mode, and it wasn’t from her sugar intake either.

“Yeah, why else would I bring it up? Well, that condition was that if I could find my missing tool, then I would tell you.” I was taking it slow, not really sure where to go with it.

“And?” Melissa was not in a very patient mood at that moment.

“Well, on Monday, you told me that I should go write a book…”

“Yeah, as a joke,” Melissa still wasn’t getting it.

“Well, that’s what I’m going to do. And that movie gave me the perfect inspiration, the missing tool.” I smiled to myself as I thought of my wonderful idea.

She blinked for a second then chuckled to herself, “I’m really an idiot, aren’t I? Jeez, I even said it myself and I didn’t get it. How can I be so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid, Mels, just clueless,” I knew she hated being called "Mels" but she would put up with it this one time due to her own stupidity. I had to take advantage of it, she called me Tams so often, and I never once complained about it.

She grinned and stole some of my ice cream, “Yeah, I guess so. Well, are you going to tell me what it’s about?”

“No, I already jinxed it by telling you what I’m doing, I don’t want to jinx it anymore,” Of course, I was jinxed the moment I walked out of Madame Lethur’s, I just didn’t know it yet.

“Fine, spoilsport!” She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. It was one of the last goodnight’s we would spend together, that was the sad thing. We were both happy in the months to come, but then it got screwed up and we could never return to this moment ever again.

That night, as I lay down on my bed, I began to write. I wrote everything and anything that came to mind about my new world, not caring about what order it was in. It felt so good to feel the cool crystal in my palm, the delicate paper under my touch. It was such a euphoric experience, I can only remember it in a dull haze.

As the months went by, I created more and more of the world. Religions, a little language, maps, the works. Yet there was still so much I didn’t know about my own creations, so much they kept secret from me, that I had to find the key to open.

Melissa and I still hung out, but whenever she wasn’t looking, I would always jot down something, so I wouldn’t forget it. Every bit of my life that didn’t involve writing at all I basically just skimmed over. I did school work, talked to my aunts, and made Thanksgiving dinner.

But, no matter how many different ventures I undertook, my mind was always wrapped up in my world. I had yet to even write a story that went along with it, I was too focused on writing, and nothing else. There was only one thing I wasn’t doing that was completely unprofessional like: I didn’t edit.

One thing any writer can tell you is that you never, ever settle on your first draft. No matter how genius you personally think it is, it will just screw you over if you don’t take a step back and look at it from a critical perspective. Being critical had never been my forte, and just like all those authors said, it screwed me over. Though, I don’t think they ever thought about a case like mine.

I should’ve known though, that there was something strange about my notebook and pen. I never seemed to run out of pages or ink; both seemed to be as ever-flowing as my ideas. I changed races, morphing them into my own version of them, with their own religions, own beliefs, own powers. Oh, what I did to the elves, the dwarves and vampires.

Just thinking about how naïve I was back then, I wish I could return to those times, but I know I’m not able to. Even if I went back there now, I’m not who I was, nor will I ever be. My life has been too weird, by anyone’s standards.

After the winter holidays, it was back to school. I had been using the leather bag for everything, and it had never let me down. It was so strong, I doubted that anything could break it, rip it, or damage it in anyway.

It was just a normal school day. I had classes with Melissa, fought with Drey at lunch, and pretended to pay attention in English as I wrote the more of my world. But that night, that night was going to be the biggest mistake I ever made. No matter how many years I’ve been alive, and I’m not even sure anymore, I have never made a mistake as life changing as the one I made.

When school ended, Melissa came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder, “So, how’s that story of yours coming?” She always asked that. Like a good best friend, she showed interest in what I loved, even when I wouldn’t let her see it.

“I’m currently working on the government system,” I said, shrugging.

“Ok, so is this story ever going to be finished?” She really wanted to read it, something I was not going to let her go until I had actually written something.

“I haven’t even started on the story itself. I’m still working on the world. How do you think the greatest works of the fantasy were created? It took time to set down rules for everything, and knowing what the rules are so they can be broken.”

Once again having a ditzy moment, she asked, “Wait, why make rules if you’re going to break them?”

“Melissa… it’s very simple. I need to know what can and cannot be done in this world. If I don’t, then I won’t be able to make sense of my own world.” I did my best to speak slowly. She really seemed to have trouble understanding what it took to create a world.

“Fine, just forget it. Write your book, but can we hang out today? I am helpless on our English Lit tonight, and I need that writer’s brain of yours. Please?” She did that cutesy pout, but I had to resist it tonight. My dad actually had plans for us, and I couldn’t blow him off. This was going to be one of the few nights where he was actually sober.

“Sorry, but I’m going out with my dad tonight. Maybe tomorrow,” I headed out of the school without looking back. Yes, it was rude of me, but I was in a rush.

It was my dad’s birthday, which had just been celebrated by a homemade cake made by yours truly. Now though, it seemed like a big announcement, and I was completely excited. Truthfully, it was the first thing I had been become excited over other than my world since I had first bought the beautiful notebook and pen.

When I reached home, my dad still wasn’t there, so I quickly took a shower and changed into my nicest dress. He had told me we were going to this fancy Italian restaurant, and I was completely excited. For my dad to not only want to do something with me, but to be sober while doing it, well, it seemed more like my birthday then his.

After an hour, my dad finally arrived home, with an actual smile on his face. I could tell that he was as happy about today as I was, which meant that something good must have happened. I ran up to him and gave him a big hug, the first I had given him in years.

I truthfully couldn’t remember how long it had been since I had last touched him even. We had kept to ourselves, never seeing each other really. It was like we were finally back in each others’ worlds. Like the gap that had grown since Mom’s death had completely disappeared.

“Tamera, you ready for a great dinner?” Even though he called me by my full name, I didn’t mind. Today, he could call me whatever he wanted to. I smiled and nodded, just wanting to be happy as a family, even if there was no mom.

“Alright then, I’ll just take a quick shower and get changed and then we, mon cherry, shall go out to the best dinner of your life.” He kissed my forehead, stopping me from laughing at his bad French. He then went off to his room to follow out on his words.

Later on at the restaurant, we were looking over the menu, dressed all clean and spiffy. If I had been paying any real attention to my dad, I would have realized that his smile was slightly strained, and his eyes showed a bit of reluctance in them.

I didn’t want to notice though, a fake smile was better then being really drunk. We caught up on each other’s lives, me telling him about Melissa, and… and he didn’t speak at all really, he just let me talk. Like he was saving his words for later on.

The entire dinner, until dessert, consisted of me telling him everything I could think of, everything except my book. That was my own little secret, and he would pry if he heard anything about it at all.

When my cheesecake and his strawberry tart were brought out, he let out a sigh, “Tamera, there’s something, well, something good has happened for me recently.”

“Yeah Dad?” I knew he didn’t mean his birthday, because, in his opinion, that meant another year closer to death. He actually hated birthdays, which should have tipped me off that something wasn’t quite right with this dinner.

“I got a promotion,” he was smiling, but it had finally clicked in my mind that something was off.

“That’s great Dad!” I smiled warmly at him, though felt the gap between us reappearing.

“Well, Tamera, theirs is a bit of a complication…” hHe didn’t finish, looking down and poking idly at his tart. He never poked his food, he liked things nice and organized, unless he was drunk.

I gulped, keeping my smile on, “Dad, it’s fine. It can’t be that much of a big deal.”

“Tamera, it’s not that easy. We both know that’s I’ve been… a bit not right these past few years, but that never affected my work.” He stopped, trying to meet my eyes, but I didn’t let him, staring down at my cheesecake. “Well, they knew about it as well, but they didn’t care. Now, I get this promotion on two conditions: I have to stop drinking, and I… well, we, have to… move.”

I froze, that’s the best word I can use to describe myself at that moment. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, I just balked at him, not processing what I had just been told. After a minute, it hit me, and it hit me hard.

“Dad… you’re not serious, are you?” Apparently, I actually could speak. And once my mouth started working again, so did my mind. I thought of school, and Melissa, and all my memories, and our house with the hole in the wall where Mom had tried putting a shelf there, and failed miserably.

He reached over the table and held my hand, something that made me shiver a little bit, “It’s for the best Tamera. We can start over, just think about it.”

I pulled my hand away from his, “Dad, I’m a sophomore in high school, starting over me me is social suicide, and I only have one friend as it is. You can’t do this Dad, I won’t leave.” I should have listened to him, not let my emotions clog my judgment. Maybe then I would at least have a normal life, but emotions doom us all one time or another.

He was turning back into my old dad, the one who only cared about work and money, “Tamera, this isn’t an option. I either move or I get fired.”

“Then leave without me, I’m sure I can stay with Melissa, or even by myself. I can take care of myself!” I was almost shouting at this point, and everyone in the restaurant was looking at us.

“Not as long as I’m in charge of you you’re not. You’re only a little girl Tamera you-“

“Only a little girl? Only a little girl? This ‘little girl’ has been taking care of your sorry ass since you started tipping the bottle. When was the last time you cooked something for yourself, or washed your own clothes. I’ve been your caretaker Dad, not the other way around!”

I didn’t give him a chance to retaliate. I grabbed my purse and jacket and ran out of there, not letting him see my tears. I ran to the bus stop and sat there, but only momentarily before the bus arrived.

I rode the bus all the way home and did my best to relax, though it was not easy. All my feelings of anger and depression were taking over. I stripped out of the fancy dress and pulled on my favorite pair of sweats, they were black with the word "Halloween" on the back. I also put on my matching shirt, which was orange with a bat across the chest. I had gotten them during a sale near the beginning of the school year, right at the beginning of the Halloween sales.

Slumping down on my bed, I grabbed for my bag and pulled out the notebook and pen. My precious belongings, whenever I was down I would just add more to my world. At times like this it was perfect to create something to go wrong with the world.

I opened it up to where I had last left off and began writing furiously, pouring all of my emotions down, not caring how hard I was pressing the pen, that it might break in my grasp. I only wanted to forget what my dad had said. He thought that I couldn’t take care of myself, even though I had taken care of him for the past few years. Even though he wasn’t drunk, he must’ve been on something, to lose his senses so completely.

I wrote and I cried until there was nothing left in me except for a desire to sleep. Closing the book, I put it on my nightstand, too tired to even think about getting out of the bed to put it back into the bed. The biggest mistake I could ever make. I know I said I made other big mistakes, but this was truly the greatest, because without this mistake, nothing would have come of my others, nothing whatsoever.

Turning off the light, I closed my eyes and slept, and I know I dreamed, but it was not important and I can’t seem to remember what the dream was about. I wish I could though, perhaps that dream would have given me the answers, had I only been paying attention to what it was telling me. But that is in the past, and my true story, the story that I am telling all of you, really began after this dream. This is because, when I woke up, I was surrounded by Mist.