When Rose was just a child, she would read countless books. She remembers reading out loud simple books with a fumbling grasp of the English language. Her voice would break, and some words would slip into a mumble. She was able to read carefully, but not fluidly. It took time for the sentences to flow seemingly; to make mere words bring life to worlds. The soothing cadence in Rose's voice definitely did not develop overnight. It was a craft. A love of words and the love of reading that was simply magical. It took years and years but the Rose's ability to read became extraordinary. Her voice rose and fell just at the right moments and when the story desired her to be emotionless and cold, Rose would do so. But within that same second that monotone voice would change to one that is bursting with life and energy.
Rose really did love to read out loud. Really, it brings the story to life.
"I really should sleep now," Rose mumbled to herself. Her voice cracked awkwardly, and during her reading session she had developed a sore throat. She looked at the clock beside her bed and yawned loudly. Rose untangled her legs and gently placed her bedtime novel on her desk. She stretched her long legs in front of her, shuffled on her bed, and then flopped down so that her face is engulfed by the pillow.
"It's always a horrible idea staying up past bedtime, Rosey-dear," the teen said with a voice mimicking the laid back attitude of her mother.
Rose turned around so that her back is completely flat against the bed. She breathed slowly and lets herself relax into the blanket. She closed her eyes. Then opened them right up again.
"Wait a minute," Rose attempted to say despite her sore throat.
"I need to write this down," she said shoving the blanket from her body and throwing her pillow aside. She seated herself at her desk and opened the first drawer in a hurry. She pulled out the worn out fairy tale book, her journal and one of her purple pens.
"I never wanted to write an ending," Rose said. "I wanted to write a completely different story," Rose said with a tired voice. However once she began to write, her hand began to cramp but Rose did not want to stop. Her wrist ached, but her thoughts were chugging through pulling her tired body along. When inspiration comes knocking at your door, be prepared for inspiration to knock you down too.
Rose sped through, writing every thought and every line that went through her head. She just could not stop herself. For some irrational reason, Rose felt like there was something more to this character. There was something important. Of course like what her mother said, breaks were important, but when a writer breaks through a writer's block, there is no stopping the indestructible typhoon blowing.
Why in fact, was this character so important to Rose? She had felt pity and anger for other characters who had unjust endings, but she had never felt so strongly before. Perhaps, this was just one of the things is Rose's life that doesn't make sense, but feels so right. She's always been an impulsive girl despite her composed façade. And maybe this is just another outlet, another way to calm those sudden impulses. But no, Rose's obsession feels like a duty. As if she's trying to guide the witch from her horrible destiny. Who knows? Rose definitely doesn't. So Rose goes along with what she do knows and that's writing. And what Rose wanted to write was not an ending but a beginning. Rose was unsatisfied because she didn't want the story to end. She wants more for this witch. She didn't want to abandon her in a new world with no friends, and no happiness. Isn't that what Rose wanted in the first place?
She wrote until her wrists cannot write any longer. Once the last word was written Rose lets out a long sigh. The author cleared out her throat, and held up her work in front of her. And now she read:
Ink
The story about a young witch in a world without magic.
Once upon a time, there was a young witch who was casted away from her home world. She was not worried about the people she left behind. She did not want to think about them anymore. That world was filled with magic and wonders, with two kinds of realms between them. But the people were skeptical of everything and the fae were unloving.
The witch was once filled with grief, but now she sees that she can only move on from the torment of that world. She wants to be something greater than them.
And so the witch found another world. Another place. This one had no magic, no other realms. At first, the witch was apprehensive about the new planet. Certainly, she can find another one that will let her keep her magic abilities. But, there was a sparkle to this world, a small abnormal light that interested the witch. And despite the woes her magic has caused her, she loved her magic. It was all she had left. It was the only part of herself that was powerful. But she did not want to be powerful at all. She wanted to belong, and if that meant parting with her magic then so be it. With all her might, the witch released the powers into the void, creating a beam of green light that surrounded her. And then, it was gone. The witch could not look at her past any longer. Once her magic was lost, she began descending. Farther and farther down she went, and the numerous lights in the sky were no longer visible.
This was the world she had chosen. This world might finally become her home. Not the world with two realms, not the people with fire, not the fae with cold hearts. At last she had a new home. A new beginning.
The witch's eyes lit up as she fell into this new world. All she saw was the blue from the sky above and the green from the earth below. And somewhere on the earth, the light was still shining. So the witch did her best to fall towards that light. Surely, she made the best decision. She hopes she did. Maybe she will be happy here.
Rose's voice was aching by the time she finished. This… is not bad. It's not good either. Rose was determined to give this witch a story she deserved. However, it feels like something was missing. Rose leaned into her chair and pulled the journal closer. She goes over the introduction a few times. What was missing? Of course, she's going to add more plot later, so that wasn't it.
Then, Rose's eyes widen and she nodded. She slammed the journal down on the table and pulled out her laptop. Rose knew the URL by heart and typed it out without any error. What sort of author writes a story without giving their main character a name?
Of course, Rose can give the witch a name later. Really she did not need to do this so early in the morning. But it felt so important to give her a name. Why? Rose wasn't certain. She can't remember the countless times she finished writing a story without naming her character. This time around, it felt like the most important thing.
Rose scrolled through the list and shook her head. Gina, nope. Anna? Too many N's. Sara, Evie, Lynn? No! None of these names seem to work! There is a perfect name out there. Somewhere. Rose was just not sure. She looked at the weary book and opened it. Rose sighed and mumbled tiredly, "If only there was a way for you to tell me your name, huh." She flipped to page where the witch's story began and read it once more.
"It's 4 a.m. and here I am obsessing over a fictional character. Oh how old habits die hard."
As Rose's eyes skimmed through the pages one name came up. Rose looked at her notebook laying on the table as if it was the item that gave her the idea. She let the old fairy tale book down and reached for her notebook. And in contrast to her quick paced writing from earlier, Rose wrote slowly and carefully. She didn't want the name to be sloppily written for some odd reason. In Rose's best penmanship, underneath the story of the witch read the name, "Jade."
The name of the girl John and Kanaya mentioned. This name was perfect. Absolutely perfect. It's not often Rose has a character whose name is similar to someone she might know in real life. It's awkward, but it's not like Rose is writing about the same person. So, Rose really isn't bothered by the strange coincidence. All she knows is that it's 4:30 in the morning and she has school tomorrow. Rose falls asleep.
