Read this dang A/N: Alright, fair warning everyone.

This is a chapter fiction, which is very, very bad of me. I am terrible at updating constantly, and sometimes I just can't finish it. But, I have the general plot of this one worked out, so I'm thinking it's possible. It definately won't be that long. I'm much more of a oneshot person, so maybe 5 chapter? They should all be fairly long though. Anyways. This might confuse you. Actually, I'm positive it will confuse you. I want you to tell me if it confuses you, because then I can clear it up; which I'm planning on doing during the short duration anyways. Maybe if you've read the book I got the idea from, though, it won't be that hard to understand.

I got this idea from the book Elsewhere, by Gabrielle Zevin.

Also, I'm way too tired to go through and re-read more than twice, so if you catch any mistakes, tell me. I might not change them though...I've realized that doesn't do any good for my stats. Hm. I should have noticed that sooner. Not the point, but I'm a rambler today. Tonight? This morning...

See what I mean?

DISCLAIMER:I do not own Bridge to Terabithia, Elsewhere, Pamula Anderson, leprechauns, Josh Hutcherson, AnnaSophia Robb, or talking bunnies. I do, however, own Uncle Levi. Because that is my uncle, and I claim him. I just made him a year younger here. That's right, he's mine. Oh, but he isn't dead. On a subject totally unrelated, I don't own the Jonas Brothers, or their rings.

But man, I sure wish I did.

I'm going to shut up now, you are very welcome.

No Such Thing

Happy endings. Whoever came up with such a ridiculous thing? There are no such things as happy endings, not in reality. You live, you die. That's all there is to it, but with a whole lot of drama in between. Does that seem at all "happy" to you? I think not.

Luckily, I don't live in the realm of reality. Where I am, most things are how you want them to be; with the obvious limitations. Where I am, you never grow up. In actuality, you grow down. Where am I? I am in Elsewhere.

I stay with my uncle, who has grown down to seventeen since leaving earth at ripe old age of twenty-seven. He died a two years after I was born, so I never really knew him. But he reminded me so greatly of an older Jesse – Oh, Jesse….

I miss my best friend, who is still trapped in the realism most call Earth. The thing is, I'm too afraid to watch him from the Earth-gazing area near my home. The last time I saw him was on the boat to this backwards world, where I had to watch my own funeral through the distance gazer. He seemed confused at the time, not sad. I'd hoped he wouldn't be too upset over me. After all, I was just me, and I'd been gone for three years to date.

Elsewhere was such a confusing place. People I'd realized that had been famous and iconic in my other life were the complete opposites of their before-selves. Pamela Anderson was a nurse who sent babies that had grown down through the sea to Earth, a famous singer who's name I could not recall was working on a cure for cancer (though it was pointless for no one in Elsewhere could ever be sick, and he wouldn't remember it once he was reborn), and my Uncle, who'd been a missionary in Africa and died in a car accident, was now a retail salesmen. Strange, this Elsewhere. There's really no way for you to understand it, unless you've been there.

Today, after spending a little time playing in the sand at the beach with friend who was much older than me - she was seven here, fifty-seven in reality – I was called into the kitchen by Uncle Levi. Wondering if he had realized today was the third anniversary of my death (rebirth?), I obliged and found him holding a rectangle of a glossy-looking piece of paper.

"Leslie." He smiled at me as I climbed up into a tall stool. "You're nine now."

"Yes." I nodded wisely, though what I was wise about, I couldn't tell you.

"You've been here three years." He commented, his green eyes almost as bright as my mother's sparkling.

"I have." I agreed, wondering where he was going with these obvious statements.

"You have a present." Uncle Levi held the paper out to me. I reached over the counter and snatched it excitedly, realizing it was a postcard and for some reason smelled faintly of wet dog. Strangely enough, I was quite fond of that smell for it reminded me of my last day with Jesse, where I had been carrying a wet Prince Terrian in the pouring ran as I waved goodbye, not knowing it would be forever.

After examining the bland picture of Elsewhere's coast, I turned the card over and curiously read the somewhat-sloppy scrawl on back.

I would say 'wish you were here', but I'm assuming you are here. After all, God doesn't just go around damning people to hell.

My eyes widened slightly at the second of the two sentences. Only two other people would remember the statement that had come out of my own mouth over three years ago.

"It came from Montegro Bay." Uncle Levi told me, and I could hear excitement in his voice. Did he know something I didn't? Of course he did, he had to. "That's just a few miles away. I'll drive you down there – " I cut him off by firmly shaking my head.

"No, Uncle. I have to go to work." I informed him quietly, carefully folding the thick paper in half as I slid off the stool. He looked at me, seeming perplexed.

"But Leslie – " I cut him off again, this time with a smile.

"If this is who I think it's from, I don't want to see him." I explained. The confusion in his face did not alter in the slightest. I just sighed and shook my head. "Nevermind. I have to go, I'll see you at dinner." I nodded, before walking out of the kitchen, the postcard still clutched in my hand.

I had been at the office for nearly two hours now, and I knew it was time for me to leave, but I couldn't pull myself away from my work. My pen was in a fuss, scribbling out random notes on my papers until the were filled and somehow created a story. My job here in the afterlife was writing.

Before, I had never been one to be trapped in a space for a long amount of time. I was like that when I first arrived at Elsewhere, and it took me almost a year to get over that. Now, here I was, noticing my desk was getting to high for my nine-year-old self, but I didn't care. I picked up my latest pile of drabble and frowned. The story I had just started was about a boy who had mysteriously lost his best friend. Years later he found her, and wanted to see her again so that things could go back to normal, the way he liked things. But the girl never saw him, because nothing would ever be the same….

Then I had the sudden urge to write about a leprechaun and a talking bunny, so I tossed the pile of papers over my shoulder and sighed. My age was getting to me, and I was beginning to realize it. After glancing at the clock on the wall, I knew Uncle Levi would be calling impatiently soon enough, so I scooted off my chair and pulled my too-large jacket over my small shoulders. Making my way out of my office, I flipped off the lights and waved to my fellow workers in the main area of the building. I was the youngest in the profession, my mind more advanced then the average persons who would have already retired by now.

Pushing the glass door open, I was greeted by a rush of cold air. I automatically pulled my jacket tighter around me when I felt someone lightly tap my shoulder. Slowly, I turned and realized I was looking at someone's stomach. Looking up at the person' face, I also realized I was looking at none other than the fifteen-year-old version of my best friend, Jess Aarons.

Have you ever had the urge to press a purple/blue/indigo button that says 'go'?

Nows your chance!