I started writing a story for the FanFiction website. Then I realized how dumb it was, so I erased it. Why did my stories suck?! Pulling up iTunes, I put on a Michael Jackson song ("Dirty Diana"). His music always gave me inspiration. Then I realized another thing, no one was in the room. I turned around. The room was empty. Oh well I thought. Just when I turned around, I realized there was someone in the room.

Holy shit! "Who the hell are you?" I said, staring at the figures in front of me.

"Tanis Half-Elven," the one with a red beard and hair, pointed ears and slightly slanted eyes said.

"Sturm Brightblade," the one with thick, black hair and a moustache said.

"Caramon Majere," the big, muscular one with brown eyes said.

"Raistlin Majere," the one with gold metallic skin, gold eyes with hourglass shaped irises and black robes whispered.

"Flint Fireforge," the short one with a black beard said.

"Tasslehoff Burrfoot," the shortest one with long hair in a ponytail piped.

"Who are you?" Tanis asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

"We told you who we are," Raistlin said.

"You just so happened to show up in the place where I just so happen to live. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Answer this first: Who are you?" Sturm said sternly.

"Okay, okay! Don't get have an aneurysm!"

"What?"

"Whatever! It doesn't matter!"

They stared at one another in disbelief.

I sighed in frustration. "Name's… Claire."

"Claire." Sturm pondered the name.

"Yeah. This ain't no big discovery, 'kay?"

"No," Caramon said gently before I could lose my temper. "We know that. And we're here for… someone. Someone who can help us."
I scoffed. "Help you? Well, no one's here 'cept me. You might need my foster brother, 'cuz he's the one everyone needs."

"And you aren't?" Sturm asked.

"Yeah. Unless it hard labor. He gets all the praise and shit, 'cuz he's obviously better."

"Are you… neglected?"

I scoffed again, but weakly. "N-no. Why would you even ask that?"

"Foster brother… where are your parents?"

"Parents? Not here."

"Where are they?"

"…dead. They're dead. I'm a foster child, obviously. But my new family hates me. I'm leaving tomorrow night. Just to start the cycle all over again."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the orphanage. That's where unwanted or lone kids like me go."

"Maybe you're the one we need," Raistlin said.

"Me? No way. I mean me? Not even." I played the song again.

"You must be. Heroes aren't always high-standard people."

"A hero? Really? Then I'm really not who you're looking for. Seriously." Then I had my idea. If they thought it was me, I could bet that I never had to come back!

"Okay. Yeah. If it gets me out of here, I'm game."

"What is this?" Tasslehoff asked, coming up beside me and nearly jumping onto my lap.

"It's called a computer. What? Didn't you know that?"

"No. Can you tell us what time and place this is?" Flint asked.

"It's June 28, 2009. About 5:00 pm in the United States of America on the planet Earth."

"It couldn't be," Caramon said, stunned.

"Well, believe it. Unless I've woke up this morning from thousands of years of sleep, then my facts are straight."

"What you're saying is that this is Earth in the year 2009?"

"Right. Where'd you think you were? Krynn?"

They stared at one another in disbelief. "Actually… yes," Sturm said.

I stared at them. Oh frick... "It… doesn't exist."

"That can't be… what happened? If it doesn't exist, how do you know about it?"

"Well… it… it's a book."

"What kind of book?"

"A fantasy book. I didn't even think—well, I did—that it could exist."

"We don't exist?" Tanis asked.

"No. Yet, you do to so many readers. Ask any D&D fans and they'll start screaming their heads off."

"Why?" Caramon asked.

"In this world and time, when a person meets a famous person they idolize, they get so excited that they start screaming. For example, Michael Jackson, the King of Pop and greatest performer in history, would probably be attacked by hysterical fans in public."

"And you don't?"

"Not even. I'm not desperate."

They were all silent.

"Well are we gonna go someplace?"

"Yes," Raistlin said when he was back in reality.

"Okay but can I get some stuff first?" I turned off the song and clicked out of the internet.

"Of course."

I jumped from my seat, knocking it over in the process. I ran downstairs to the basement (which my "parents" gave me as a room). Grabbing the backpack that I had never unpacked, I dropped to the floor and pulled out the cooler. Inside was my stash of food and junk: a few bags of chip, two bottles of pop and water, some candy, a few packs of gum, a bunch of beef jerky, two packages of cookies and a jar of peanut butter. All of this had never been seen by anyone but me.

"What is this place?" I heard someone ask.

I spun around, thinking it was the parents, but it was only Sturm, Caramon and Flint.

"This is the basement/my room. They only put me down here so they don't have to see me and there's a heater that's really loud at night."

"What else do they do to you?" Sturm asked.

"They make me clean the house until about midnight, they whip me with a belt, never let me go anywhere— not even to school, and they ridicule me."

Again they were silent until Caramon spotted the food sticking out of my bag.

"What's that?"

"My junk stash. I've never shown it to anyone. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" he said, making his way toward the bed.

I took out the beef jerky and opened a package. Taking a few pieces, I handed them to Caramon, and then looked to the others. "Did you want something?"

They both refused—politely—the food.

"This is excellent! What is it?"

"Dry, salted beef," I said, grinning. I knew they ate dried meat, but this was something different.

"It never tastes like this back in Krynn."

"That's because it's been something called processed."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I guess it means that they just add more stuff to it."

Caramon didn't say anything else. He just enjoyed it.

"These people sound horrible," Sturm said, picking up a picture frame from my nightstand. "Is this them?"

"No, that's my real parents. The nuns at the orphanage gave this to me when I was old enough." If you were to see the picture, you'd see a man and a woman in front of two trees. In the distance behind them is a sign that says "City of Chicago." The man is tall and muscular. His brown eyes reflect the camera flash brilliantly while his black hair captures the light from the sun. The woman is slim and attractive. Her blue eyes represent a diamond in the rough (just like her) while the mass of brown hair flows over her shoulders like a waterfall. The pale skin is covered with freckles. "They only said that they were dead. Very rarely do I believe that."

"What do you mean?"

"They were driving and their car spun out of control and drove into Lake Michigan. When they pulled the car out, they couldn't find the bodies. They found a water-proof case in the trunk. They found a few things, like this picture."

"What else was in there?"

"Some of my mom's jewelry, my dad's books, and the pictures. Here's the other picture." I pulled it from my pocket and handed it to him. Caramon and Flint looked at it, as well. It was with my parents, but it showed my dad with a baby.

"Is that you?" Caramon asked.

"Yeah. I was a couple months old."I took it back and slid it into my pocket. "And this is a necklace that's been passed down on my Dad's side. He said the ancestor that first got it just found it." I held up the necklace that I always wore. Even when I slept.

"Why are you bringing all of this with you?"

"I'm not coming back. I'd rather be in your world than in this world with all its problems."

They didn't say anything. I put my iPod and laptop in the bag.

"What are those?"

"This is an iPod, and this is a laptop. I've been working to save up money to buy them for years. Never have I told anyone about these either."

When I was home alone, I used the computer to put the songs on there. And I didn't have an internet connection, so it cost only a few hundred dollars.

"Okay, I'm ready."

We went upstairs, where Tanis, Raistlin and Tasslehoff were waiting.