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.