News: My thoughts are clouds I cannot fathom into pastries.

--1 June 2018--

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

April 29, 2011

"Smile" by Uncle Kracker -- a cover

My favourite song lately has been "Smile" by Uncle Kracker. My good friend, JC, introduced me to it :D So, to make his day I decided to record my own rendition of this AWESOME song :P I wanted to share this bit of awesomeness with you. This is of course, not my song and I don't own anything about it...except maybe my voice and piano skills lol! Yes that is me playing and singing :D I'm sooo thrilled with how this turned out!! I hope you folks enjoy it as much as I do (I've listened to it over like... 15 times now!! it's silly XD)

***EDIT*** (from here to the bottom is newly added material :D)

So I know this is a bit late, but I kinda figured (because I feel like it) I'd add in the who, what's, where's, and why's this song is so special to me :P here goes.

I was chatting back and forth with a friend of mine (JC) who lives on the other side of the province (isn't it awesome how IM'ing can like...close distance so fast? :P 'course I don't get to see him till the summer but w/e it's still fun to chat!). Anywho, I was talking with this folk and we were being kinda random :P ya know...talking about weird things like nuclear physics and atom smashers and literature and school. Ok, that part was cool, but the hilarious part was when we started talking about what kind of animals our family members reminded us of. I said someone reminded me of a shrew and from that point on I thought I might die from laughing so hard :P in fact, I can't contain my smile now as I think of how hilariously awesome it was XD

There was a small lul in our conversation then I suddenly see this link pop up on the window and JC says, "This song came to mind." So I listened to it and was instantly hooked :P It was so catchy and fun and just... cool :P now, every time we talk and start laughing we're both just like "Aah!! That song!!" haha! It's so funny! So yeah, I just decided to randomly record my own self singing it because I figured that would make people smile even more :P (esp. JC haha! we had a good howl over that one).

I shared it because I know this song brings good memories to mind and definitely makes me smile and I wanted to make other people smile too. Of course, it doesn't hold the same meaning to you as it does to me, but hey, if I can brighten your day in some way then I'd do it!! :D

Signed with a drop of sunshine,


Royal Wedding + School + Small Update

I know I know there are lots of things I've wanted to post about, especially Easter, but with finals and stuff I just haven't had a chance. Now, I woke up this morning at 7:30am PST and realized, "Waah?? The royal wedding is already over!!" I was disappointed :( but oh well, I've been looking through pictures and stuff online and some of the outfits are awesome!! (some are atrocious!) and I loooved Kate's dress! So beautiful! Definitely princess ;)

Now I'd like to add pictures to this post but I'm currently in stunned mode thus too lazy to do so :P Maybe another day.

So many things are going on are a few:

  • The royal wedding!! I was stoked for that :D
  • Voting time! Our Prime Minister (currently Stephen Harper) is on the campaign trail again and on Monday we'll be voting for who we believe should take that position (either Harper or another folk from another party). If you read this, it would be awesome if you could keep Canada in your prayers :D
  • I'm DONE SCHOOL!!! I'm so stoked haha!
  • My final marks are back :D I got...
    • A- in psychology
    • A+ in physics
    • A in chemistry
    • A in English
    • -- in calculus (mark is still pending; I'd be surprised if I got an A...)
  • I've got a job :P on the farm and in my dad's office

Thus, my life is fun :D I hope yours is awesome too! I shall write more later (I promise!) but for the moment, I wish to just enjoy these moments of utter nothingness!

Signed with a whisp, 


April 25, 2011

*SHOUTS* 911!! (actually, it's not an emergency but if I could borrow your eyeballs for a moment that would be sweet!)

Hey folks,

Yes, please, eyeballs...hand em over. Actually, ok, I don't want to handle those slimy things... (lol) but if you could adjust your viewing range and read below that would be absolutely AMAZING!! *ROFL* (I don't know why this is so hilarious, guess my self-made title just tickles my funny bone hehe)


My brother's and my friend has started up a little business selling jewellery to fight against abortion; she's only doing this for two weeks I believe...and all proceeds go to "Right for Life" which is a pro-life any girls out there, I'd encourage ya to check it out and support "Right for Life" by purchasing some of this cute jewellery!

This is one piece I LOVE! It's so pretty...the blue colour and everything with the little spiky things! [I've always loved these jelly spiky ones] (mwhahaha, maybe I'll have to invest in this...I can't wear other earrings just piercings aren't fully healed. I believe I've got 3-4 more weeks left :D)

Here's what she emailed me:

Every month 100,000 unborn childeren are aborted. How horrible is that? Everybody deserves the right to live, but unfortunately not everyone gets that chance. Today I'm launching a program called "Jenessa's Jewels." What is Jenessa's Jewels? Jenessa's Jewels is a fundraiser to help prevent abortion, I'm selling jewelry that I've created myself on my blog "Believing and Beyond.." profits go to "Right To Life", an organization that wants to prevent abortion. Please check it out, buying one key chain, necklace, or bracelet helps.  
Emailing, facebooking, blogging, or tweeting the link also helps. Please, everyone deserves the right to life.  

Thanks for reading!! Remember, you can do something to help :D


April 21, 2011

Let it Rage

Fire. Fire is nasty. Fire is dangerous. Fire is awesome.

Not my Image

Why do I like fire? I suppose you could say I'm a bit of a pyro...not super pyro (not nearly as bad as SOTK *nervous chuckle*) but I do love fire. You know, you stare into the crackling, dancing flames and your eyes go all wonko and get really dry and start sizzling. *sniff sniff* and the smell of smells so beautiful. Of course, in the summer time when the hillsides are all a-blaze I despise the smell of fire because then it means that people are loosing their homes and animals are being consumed by those nasty flames. Controlled that's my kinda thing. Explosions, flames licking towards the stars. Now that is just beautiful.

Not my Image

What exactly does a raging fire have to do with writing? Well, sometimes (such as this current moment) one gets that feeling of utter's like a raging fire inside one's limbs. Yes. Fire. Liquid, molten, flaming awesomeness. That awesomeness is so awesome it cannot stay within one for must find a way to leak out. If one isn't careful it will leak out in all the wrong ways. Through the eyes...a firey glare, a flaming laugh, or (worse yet) a blazing barrage of tormenting words. Awful. Fire hurts. But, if used properly, that burning fire can be channeled (like water) and used to benefit an individual and their craft. Harness thy emotions sir knight and we shall proceed!! 

Not my Image

Fire is dangerous, as I have already stated quite blatantly. It overcomes you and you spin out of control. Then, it suddenly sputters to its death and leaves you to freeze in its chilly absence. What do we do when we're overtaken by flames? Ok, I'll try to speak less symbolically.

Fire = emotion. Hot emotion too. Not that stuff that's just like "Oh I feel happy!" or "Oh my, that does make me happy." No no no, fire is emotion that is so out of control and raging that you can't do anything about it:


Yeah, that's excitement (placed in Squeak terms of course). Your heart starts pumping double beat, your breathing rate increases, you face gets blotchy, and you feel like your heart is going to pound its way right out of your ribcage and start doing the polka on the floor.
Or, there is:

"What the heck? WHAT THE HECK??? WHY THE HECK DID YOU DO THAT??? Oh my goodness, I could just punch a stagnant steel wall right now if you don't get your blob out of here. I AAAAAAAAAARGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"

*ahem* anger. Yep. It's a pretty powerful emotion (and ^^ said example does not convey the firey crazyness of such a heated emotion).

So what do you do if you get like...super heated to over-melting point? You're so filled with emotion that you're literally trembling and you feel like you need a coffee (actually, the best idea is to not have a coffee, it'll just worsen the situation, trust me). Here's what I do.

I stop. It's really hard to stop...really hard...I feel like being a dork and just smacking my fists against the wall (if I'm angry) or jumping in jubilation and believing I'll actually fly (if I'm excited). So yeah, I stop. Then you have a trembling emotional Squeaks stuck in a pose of utter take that Squeaks, plop her down in front of her computer and tell her "WRITE!" and she writes. Her fingers clack so dog gone fast against the keyboard or she scrambles for a pen/pencil and begins madly scribbling poetry onto a page of crinkled paper.

Folks, here's the bad news. Our emotions, our raging fires, they're really not good for our health (when they get really out of control). But, there is good news; what could potentially destroy relationships and make us into utter fools can be used to benefit us. We just have to simply take a moment to grab that breath of fresh air and then force ourselves to sit and write.

One day, I was super super super super mad. I was so steaming mad I thought I'd pop a gasket and steam would fly out my nostrils and boil my brains. And then yeah, I'd be a mental case for the rest of my life. Thank God that didn't happen! :P So I was in my room, fuming mad I punched my pillow. It felt like my heart had swollen to five times its normal size and was going to rip itself out of me and thwap along the bed onto the floor and then run off screaming some weird canto.

What did I do then? I angrily grabbed my pen and my note pad and furiously started scribbling what came to mind on the paper. Thirty minutes later, I had 13 pages of flaming poetry that seriously expressed my feelings and just invigorated me as I re-read it (not in a bad invigoration way of course). As I slowly calmed down (and 13 pages later had calmed me a lot) I went to the end and added a proper, humane finis to the poem. The resolution of torture was beautiful and it has become one of my favourite poems, because it had captured my heart and emotion and that emotion had made my words come alive (to me at least).

Emotion is a dangerous thing, as I've already mentioned. It's a fire of our bones. It surges from our inner-ness *raises eyebrow* and plunges through our veins like a barrage of firey horses; once it reaches our hearts we could very well be done for, but if we learn to harness those horses then we can seriously pump out some awesome sauce.

Not my Image
As an emotional's my tip of the day. Let it rage. But, be careful how you let it rage. Emotion can be harmful to you and others, thus learn to master it. Learn to direct it. If emotional is harnessed properly then it can be beneficial to you and your family but if you let it run rampant like an uncontrolled blaze you'll wreck havoc on your life and others. As a writer I say: Let It Rage. Just be careful.

Signed with a flame,


April 20, 2011

Huzzah! It's Award Time (jk)

So I don't actually do awards or tags on my blog anymore, due to the time consumption and stuff, but sometimes if I happen to get handed a really cool one then I'll do it for fun (or if I'm just really bored lolz). In this case, it was the famed Stylish Blogger Award :P Thanks Eldra and I do believe another person awarded me as well but I couldn't figure out who it was because there is just so much stuff on my dashboard and in my comments section XD sorry!!

Essentially, I'm just supposed to tell you 7 things about myself :P and no, I'm not going to pass this along since I'm not "officially" receiving the award lol!

  1. I love my villain. Yeah, his name is Omriel and he's amazing :P of course this is not from my NaNo novel, I put that away for a looong time since it's originally what stole my inspiration (please see archives and hunt for details if curious). 
  2. I feel hippie today. I'm wearing my hair down long and a soft hat :P k, that's not super hippie but w/e
  3. I LoooooOOOOOooooOOOOooooVE Kraft peanut butter (light smooth) and I absolutely delight in Mr. Christie's Arrowroot baby cookies :P
  4. I have 2 more exams to go and then I'm done for the rest of the summer! (I know, that's not really 'about' me but w/e it's cool info!! haha)
  5. I love cats and dogs and horses and cows (we have all of em) 
  6. I despise mushrooms and tomatoes (for those of you here last year you may remember that great hubbaloo we got into over tomatoes and mushrooms haha
  7. I'm engaged. :D ...

    ... the art of writing. Don't spazz folks! Remember, there are many definitions for the word engaged ;)

And that's it for now :) Adios!

Signed with water, 


April 17, 2011

Beautiful People -- Round 2

So I'm in for this catchy little thing that's going on at Sky's blog (click zee linky folks and join in!!) Here are the questions for this week. I decided to use my character Omriel (ya know, the evil dude from Children of the Song *whispers* and we all thought he was dead eh haha). Here goes!

1. How old is he/she?

Omriel is somewhere between 23 and 27 years old. I wanted to say he's 24, but *shrug* his personality keeps getting me by surprise ... super slippery if ya know what I mean, so his age is kinda up in the air.

2. What does he/she do with his/her spare time?

He likes to scope out people and take long walks in the woods. His heart is constantly going back to the past and all the troubles he's had. He loves to write and dream. Deep inside, I think he's a romantic dude, but on the outside he's so dog gone hard and calloused he makes us shiver with disgust :P

3. Does he/she see the big picture or live in the moment?

Both. Omriel can be very wise but he can also be very narrow-minded, especially in the heat of battle. *shrug* He's a villain. Let's give him that. 

4. Is he/she a perfectionist?

Yes. Omriel likes his victims just so...and he practices each time, trying to get the art of killing just right XD I don't agree with his style, no one should, but hey, as I just said...he's a villain. 

5. What does her handwriting look like? (round, slanted, curly, skinny, sloppy, neat, decorative, etc.)

His handwriting is perfectly neat. It's very decorative and curly and all the way cursive. 

6. Favorite animal?

His horse. He loves horses. Especially big black, majestic war horses. Ya know, kinda like the Canadian warm blood (k, that's not a war horse, but w/e they're very majestic...we own one, her name is Widdowmaker). 

7. Does he/she have any pets?

No, although he may in the future :D I'd love to hook him up with a fwubuloo, it would be hilariously cute, but it would have to be an evil fwub...and I don't know how I could turn such an adorable creature into an evil beasty. Ah, I'll work on it :P

8. Does he/she have any siblings? How many? Where does he/she fit in?

I seriously don't have an answer for this question. I think I used to know if he had siblings, but I can't remember at the moment :S sorry folks :P 

9. Does he/she have a 'life verse' and if so what is it?

Omriel lives like a heathen XD "Do unto others as they have done unto you." The dude seriously needs a fix-me-up in his whole moral section of life. 

10. Favorite writing utensil?

A quilled pen; he loves writing with black ink from the sparcum tree, but since that is very rare he often just uses what's blood. There's lots of that hanging around his place...ya know what I told ya about the blood market and everything, well, yeah...let's just leave it at that. 

Signed with a snowflake (cuz it's snowing at my place here in south-western Canada right now o.O I know, intensely crazy and very weird for this time of year!)


April 14, 2011


Random post coming right up.

Not my Image

I was reading through my archives and I realized that all my blessed randomness has's like, k. One sec while I pull Skillet out of my brain and collect my thoughts.

There we go. As I was saying. My beautiful random posts have been a blessing to me :P I look back over them now and realize that what was hare today is goon tomorrow. *ahem* I meant, what I once considered to be absolute truffle-mongering randomness is actually quite down-to earth. *blink* indeed. Yeah, it was weird reading through all that cream of the crop and realizing that my words were dangling off my finger tips like little pixies. I seriously never realized that my pen of doom (pardon me, Jake, for using the term, but it was irresistible!) was so dog gone sharp and spoinky (sparky/pointy). I could very well have been a character out of some fantastic fantasy book complete with black cape and Zoro mask :P (methinks I spelled that wrong).

So yeah, I'm back for a bit of random splurge. It's like dessert. You want two helpings. No no, that's not it. It's like dessert. You know you really shouldn't have that extra piece of gooey delicious cheesecake (oh it gets me every time folks, every single time) but the temptation is just too strong and you nab a helpless piece of chunky awesomeness and dig in with your fork. Mmm; just thinking of cheesecake makes my mouth water. Haha. I'm in love with that dessert. I know -- what is it like 1000 calories a piece? Huh? Yeah, craziness! Whatever though, I dare say calories flee in the presence of such culinary delightfulness lol!

Ok, change of topics, but seriously this is cool. The word chilling holds such wonder for me at this current moment, I can't think of anything else to say except, "Wow, that's just so chilling." Also, any derivatives thereof are happily on my tongue, this includes: chill, chillax, chizzles, and chilongraftermongerhungermunger. Actually, omit the last one *goes back and strikes through*. I have a friend who uses the derivatives of chilling quite effectively. We ride the bus to school, ya see, and he's always popping words like, "Hey, just chill" or "That sounds so chill." Seriously, the dude is a hero. I think he'd make a perfect character in a story! I can almost see it now (and this description only sorta fits him):

Beralden shook his head, his long brown hair flicked sideways from the sharp motion. He crunched his tall frame close to the forest floor and fingered the muddy tracks of the fox. His brown eyes pierced the ground with an inhumane intensity that made me shiver. The hunter looked up and shifted his weight, his leather boots squeaked slightly. He spoke to me, but never looked in my direction, 

"Just chill, Klaris. We'll find it before they do, alright? Keep your cool, last thing we need is the Fengali smelling fear while we're on this trail." 

Rain continued to fall softly towards the earth; eddies of black water swirled around our feet, causing the mud to squelch in delight. I didn't see anything delightful in the whole situation. It was perfectly dismal and utterly frightening.

Haha, I love it :D With a bit of editing, ya know...bringing out the wrenches of imagination and just tightening the whole piece, I think that would make for an interesting tale. I kinda wonder who Beralden and Klaris are. Why are they hunting the fox? Or are they even hunting a fox? And who on earth are the Fengali? Or is it an it? *shivers* sounds perfectly haunting.

Now, now, now, what shall I do? I can't think of much more to write, unfortunately. All that inspiration that zonked my brain just fled like greased lightening. That would be cool, to grease lightening that is. I wonder if it would sizzle like a frying pan. Or better yet, to grease the tree that got hit by lightening. Mmm, fried bark of spruce XD

Oh and pardon that first sentence, I realize that something is seriously seriously seriously wrong with my html. I don't quite know how to fix it o.O so I'm afraid it's going to have to stay that way until I gather my boots together and untie my knots and get this whole thing shaken out into sense. *blink* Of course, if any of you know how to deal with the little monsters that come in and totally scrap your coding then I'd welcome your tutelage :) *mutters under breath* that is, if anyone is brave enough. Facing the dragons of html is always a noble and ... utterly dangerous thing to do. The entire quest could turn out dastardly wrong and the html'er-fixer-up-er could come away from the whole thing with a couple fingers missing and a broken sword. That is not what I have in plan for my *ahem* life. I don't want to lose fingers to the sharp teeth of this...thing. Yeah, so maybe I'll just leave it.

*looks up* Wow, that was a long section on an absolutely pointless topic. Haha, but then again, this whole thing is labelled under randomness, so I guess I do have the authority to leave it unedited...and I'm going to do just that :P Well, I hope I haven't scared you folks with my sudden re-commitment to the annals of randomness. Remember, that's a key part of my life, the life of Squeaks; methinks it's rule number 2, or maybe 3... -- to be random, utterly whimsical, and entirely nonsensical as often as possible.

Signed with a bag of puffed wheat,


April 8, 2011

"When a Writer Goes All Out, They Pay For It" by Squeaks

This is a fictional piece, written by me (Squeaks). I did it in response to Jake's personification challenge [see link at veeerrryyy bottom of post] :P The entirety of this piece and all concepts belong to me (except where noted). It is protected under the copyright laws of Canada; if I find that it has been reproduced in any way or used for commercialism, the offender may be prosecuted. If you wish to use this piece in any manner or form (such as emailing it or quoting it) please email me and let me know: hiddendoorways[at]gmail[dot]com

Thanks!! And ENJOY!!

Signed with a giggle, 


When a Writer Goes All Out, They Pay For It
By Squeaks
8 April, 2011

I sat waiting in the café. The twirly-seat at the bar twisted underneath me, sending my long legs sprawling across the expansive linoleum floor (yeah, they were that long). I jammed my fingers into the crinkly package of take-out fries and pulled a few limp beasties from their confinement.
Gross, I thought to myself as I tilted back my head and let those limp fries drop in, one by one. They weren’t exactly gross…I don’t think anyone in their right mind would call soggy, salty fries gross. Of course, you just heard me say “the word”, but that’s different. I was talking about the waitress. You see, she was sitting across the bar from me, chewing on her fingernails and popping bubble gum. It was weird. I thought she was supposed to be getting me that cold cola I’d specifically asked for only five minutes ago. As it was, she hadn’t moved an inch…and things were a little awkward.
The continuous crinch, crunch of her nails as she bit down on them sent chills waggling up my spine.
Perhaps she’s an alien in disguise, I thought as I swallowed my mushy fry-paste that had coagulated inside my mouth. That would explain things, she sits there ogling the side-door like some crazed monster…wait, is that a tinge of green on her skin? Splotches of mottled colour?
The door to the restaurant swung open with a bang. I flinched as I heard glass crack. The waitress jolted from her trance-like state and hopped off her stool. Her black and blonde –bleached hair fell over her dull, brown eyes as she hurried through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. With the sudden commotion, I’d have expected her to attend whoever entered…she must be more psyco than I first thought.
A gust of dry wind hit me square in the back. I grunted and turned around.
What the heck? I thought to myself as I felt my eyebrows involuntarily shoot up a few inches on my forehead.
Standing in the doorway, with the door still wide open and a large crack running down its glass, was some heroic-wannabe. This person stood a good 6ft tall, maybe more. He was fully clad in black. Shiny black boots with silver rims and wicked looking points, black jeans held up by a black belt (which had a silver buckle; it glimmered so brightly from the sun that I thought I might lose my eyesight). The dude’s shirt was black and form-fitting, from what I could see of it, because in the way there was a black cape that hung down to the stranger’s knees. It swirled and twitched with the wind.
I pushed my fries away and glanced at the intruder’s face, but immediately turned away. So handsome! I thought as my chair rapidly spun underneath me and ungratefully dumped me on the floor. Dang it all, I thought as I picked my lanky self off the linoleum and settled back in my seat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as getting back up and sitting down. The chair seemed as though it wanted to turn into a bucking bronco, it twisted away from me as I grabbed the side of the bar and held on for dear life.
Suddenly, out of nowhere (and I recall screaming when it happened), I felt two burly hands wrap themselves around my waist and lift me up. I kicked backwards with my long legs, hoping to nail the offender in the shin, but my useless limbs simply swiped out from under me. If it hadn’t been for that strong grasp I’m certain I would have fallen flat on my face, and I’d have probably remained there from the sheer humiliation of the situation.
“Perhaps you’ll consider choosing a safer seat next time, miss.” A deep, calming voice greeted my ears. It sounded too close for comfort though. I yanked the stranger’s hands off my waist and spun around, spastically throwing my arms in the air to untangle myself from his cape. My legs twisted under me and I fell in a heap on the floor. It was Mr. Hero-wannabe. He offered a black, leather clad hand to me as I untangled myself. I refused it and got back on my feet without aid.
“Who do you think you are,” I began venomously, “grabbing me when you know quite well that I can take care of myself!” My heart beat ultra-fast. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the emo-waitress was peeking out from between the double doors. She held it open a crack with one hand and with the other she grasped my cola. I pointed at her,
“You there.”
She started backing away.
“Hey! My cola please? I’m dying of thirst.”
She rushed through the doors as though she hadn’t been waiting there in the first place; then, she slid the cola across the bar and quickly retreated. Much to my dismay, I watched as the swinging double-doors never fully closed.
Great, I thought as I sipped my refreshment. Now I not only had to deal with Mr. Hero, but also a snoopy eavesdropper.
“Francis.” The hero spoke, his voice a soft and soothing as ever.
“What do you want?” I wrinkled my nose in distaste at his clothes, “Where’d you get those clothes? They’re awful. You look like you should be in Vegas, not in the middle of a desert county.”
Mr. Hero grinned, his teeth were perfectly white…all lined up like sheep in a row, “Well, I can’t exactly go there now can I? Besides, I don’t like Vegas. It’s an awful place. Too much bling-bling for me.”
Bling-bling? I scoffed. His vocabulary was pitifully childish.
“Who are you?” I asked as I sucked the last of my cola through a lime-green straw.
“I am me.”
“Duh.” I shook my head and frowned, “Obviously you’re you. And you know who YOU are, but I don’t. I’ve never seen you before. So, explain. If you’re going to make dramatic entrances and save girls like me from vicious chairs you’d better have some kind of explanation.”
Mr. Hero scrunched up his brow, “Shucks,” he said, “I’d never thought of it that way before. I simply believed, since we know each other so well, that I’d be able to butt in whenever necessary without having to go through this whole questioning sequence again.”
“Again? My gosh, am I dealing with a schizophrenic or something? Don’t you get it!? I’ve never met you before!” I felt heat rise to my face as my heart pumped blood through my veins at a steadily accelerating lub-dub-lub-dub.
“You’re mistaken.” Mr. Hero sidled up beside me and flicked my hair behind my ear. I recoiled in horror.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing???” I backpedaled straight into the bar counter. The stainless steel embraced my vertebrae with about as much love as a knife has when it embraces an orange.
“Oh that’s gotta hurt.” Mr. Hero leaned against the bar, one hand propped against his increasingly good-looking chin, the other mindlessly rubbing the trigger of a pocket gun.
“Ok then,” I said as I tried to control my temper, “let’s assume you’ve never seen me before. How would you introduce yourself?”
Mr. Hero raised his eyebrow…funny how it looked just like my own characteristic move.
“If you insist.” He grinned, “I am Sir F. Liam Boiant Lovesey, but I usually go by Florin. The F. in my first name doesn’t actually stand for anything. Well, ok, if you really want to know, it stands for Finigan, but I prefer Florin.” His voice lowered to a chilling whisper and he leaned closer, “I’m not an actual person, of course. I’m part of you. I’m, I guess you could say, a personification of your flamboyant and loving characteristics.”
I gaped at him, shock was written all over my face (or so I was told, later),
“Why then,” I fumbled for my words, “why are you a guy?”
Florin’s smile was instantly wiped off his face, “Oh. That. Uh, well, you see…” He coughed and wrinkled his nose (again, something I always do; I don’t see why my character personification had to copy my every move).
“Spit it out. Claiming to be part of me is a serious … a serious thing to do. I need an explanation, Florin.” Suddenly, I found myself quite comfortable. At least I was in control of this conversation now. I reached inside the greasy paper bag for another fry but realized they were all gone. My glass of cola was empty too. Oh well.
Florin rolled his eyes, such a childish move for someone so awfully cute.
“I’m a guy because that’s what you want me to be.”
“I want you to be a guy? Since when? Since when did I say, oh I want my personality to be masculine. I’m NOT that type of person…this is awkward.” I twisted my torso and cracked my back.
“Hey, I can’t exactly control what you do to characters. You wanted a hero, I’m here. You wanted flamboyance, I’m here. You wanted some strength…well,” Florin flexed a muscle, “I’ve got it. Plus…you wanted some good looks too, eh? Well, I’m pretty sure you endowed me with more than I can handle.” He finished this statement with a wink that made me blush. What? Blushing at myself? That made no sense.
I reached over and stretched out my hand, “We’ll be friends then, eh?”
“Oh, more than friends.” Florin grinned and grasped my hand. Then, he rose up and drew me into a rather warm embrace (I never knew characters had warmth…I always thought that, if they are part of my mind, they can’t actually emit heat). I let myself relax…I was only hugging me. It seemed so awfully weird, but then again, if I imagined Florin out of existence he’d simply return to being me. Or maybe I was extrapolating myself out into this individual. Hmm, strange.
“So then,” I broke the embrace and returned to my seat, “tell me what I’m thinking?”
Florin grinned, “You’re thinking about how weird this whole thing is and…huh? You want the 27th of April to hurry up? Why? Oh dang it all, you blocked me from that…you shoved it into your unconscious. Come on, what were you thinking?”
I grinned and forced my brain not to remember but it popped up anyways. So much for keeping things from myself. Florin’s eyes widened and then he chuckled.  
“Thanks a lot.” I grumbled and toed the leg of his stool with my sandaled foot. He shook his head and let his chuckle grow into a full belly laugh. It was too contagious, I couldn’t help it, so I started laughing along with him.
When we’d finally managed to finish our hysterics, I noticed that most of the folks in the little dive of a restaurant were looking at us. Actually, now that I think about it, they were looking at me. The double-door entrance to the kitchen was crammed with three pairs of eyes. I turned to Florin; his face was lit up with a lopsided grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you just love it when you play tricks on yourself?” asked Florin.
“Uh, no actually, I don’t find that funny.”
“Well, if you want to know, then listen up.”
Florin got off his chair and circled around me. I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared behind me (I didn’t dare twist my chair around for fear it would buck me off again). I felt his leather-bound hands curl over my shoulders; the warm breath from his mouth caressed my ear.
“If you really want to know?” he phrased the statement as a question. I leaned back into his chest.
“I’m not actually here. I’m truly a figment of your imagination. Everyone thinks you’re a lunatic because you’re talking to thin air.”
Florin stopped talking. I still felt his breathing on my neck. He wasn’t really there? What? He sure felt real. He knew everything about me. How could he not be real?
“You’re teasing me. Seriously.”
“I’m not.” he replied in a deep tone.
“What do you mean by ‘you’re not actually here’?”
“Silly girl, your imagination is so strong you just imagined me. I am you, although not all of you. I have no real gender, because character doesn’t have gender (but your spirit and body do; your character simply conforms to the gender of your spirit and body) so that’s why you can make me whatever you want me to be.”
Florin squeezed my shoulders and then lifted his hands. I leaned forward and took a deep breath, then I spun myself around carefully and…
Florin wasn’t there.
He was seriously just here…I can still smell the leather of his black gloves and hear the swish of his cape. I crunched my eyebrows together and turned back to my original position. Again, I was very careful so that I didn’t fall off my seat.
The manager of the restaurant came out from those double-doors. I caught a glimpse of a very concerned waitress and chef just before the doors swung shut.
“Is there anything I can do to help you ma’am?” asked the manager. His custom-made shirt was lime green with red lettering that read Shmancy’s Diner. It was splattered with ketchup, or maybe something else had been going on in the back of the kitchen. Besides, who called their diner Shmancy’s? What kind of a name is that?
“I’m perfectly fine, thank-you.”
“That’s what they all say.” He muttered under his breath and reached for the phone on the wall.
“What? I’m perfectly fine I said. Although, I think that burger gave me a stomach ache.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he paused his dialing, “but our burger’s have never caused people to hallucinate before.”
“Yeah, ma’am, I’m sorry but, you were talking to yourself quite loudly. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave or I’m going to call the cops, maybe even the nearest mental institution.”
“Cops? Mental institution? What?” I shook my head and offered a nervous smile, “I totally don’t get it, what do you mean call the cops?”
The manager hesitantly put the phone down and leaned over the bar, his oily brown hair shimmered in the low lighting.
“You’re disturbing the other customers, I’m asking you to leave.”
It was then that it all hit me. Florin. The black cape. Mr. Hero. It was all…all made up. I had been imagining it all.
“Oh I see.” I picked up my purse and collected my lime green straw from my cola glass (I like to collect straws, you see). I grinned and waved towards the double-doors.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” I said, rather sarcastically.
“Please.” The manager pointed to the door. I left, thankfully managing to not trip over myself. It was a pure miracle.
When I reached my car, I unlocked it and got inside. After starting it, I sat back and let the cool air-conditioning blow over my warm countenance. I raised my hand and flicked my hair back over my ear; the small gesture brought a smile to my face.
So, this is what life as a writer means, I thought as I buckled up and threw the gearshift into reverse. Who’d have thought my very own personality would show up in the form of a maddeningly handsome character and make a fool of me in front of complete strangers?
My phone blipped and began blaring “Hero” by Skillet. I picked it up and swiped my finger over the touch-screen to answer the call.
“Hello?” I repositioned the device on my shoulder as I maneuvered my car out onto the highway. A very breathy, hissing voice pummeled my ear from the other side of the line:
“Surrender your spies now.” It hissed, “All turkular weapons must be handed over at midnight.” (1)
“Whatever.” I slipped the phone back into my hand and hit the “Cancel Call” button. My eyes drifted upwards to my rear-view mirror where a plump turkey air-freshener dangled, bouncing around as the tires thumped over pot-holes in the rugged road. Life as an imaginationist and writer was certainly interesting.

(1)   Jake of Sadaar. A Battle Fought at Midday: Part 1. Blogger, 8 April 2011.
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