Disclaimer:I don't own anything from any of the stories/books mentioned, least of all Artemis Fowl.

Well, at least the one couple was gone. I meant what I said – I liked their story for a month or so, but when I wasn't as hyped, I was able to take a good look. I realized that the writing wasn't quite the quality I had been blinded into thinking it was...so I dropped the series. I don't believe in it anymore, but that's only me.

So now, I have people – or creatures – I see daily. There are owls living in my closet, a huge bodyguard standing outside my room at night, a rat sleeping the corner...it goes on and on. At least they don't usually swamp me all at once. And little by little, I'm learning their stories. They're telling me their hearts and souls, and I'm becoming a little wiser each time. Besides, the stories are just plain amazing most of the time, not to mention fun to listen to. Every one of them has the voice that I've always imagined they had. Have you ever experienced that? Reading about someone, and imagining their voices, but not daring to try them out, because you know you'd get them wrong?

They've told me something disturbing, though. Once upon a time, there were millions of them, and of course they were aware of each other. Now, there are fewer and fewer – possibly only thousands. I don't understand what's happening, but according to them, when a story stops being loved, the people within die. Maybe that's why I've never seen any of those famous characters of old – Hester Prynne, Sir Gawain, the Green Knight, any from Chaucer's famous Tales...How long ago was it that they perished?

When people die, they're gone, right? The same is so for those people mentioned above – they disappear, and no amount of reading and loving will ever bring them back. I fear for all those I love – I fear falling out of love, forgetting...

"You seem rather melancholy, Mud Girl. What's up?" The red-headed fairy, Holly, is hanging over the edge of the top of my bunk bed, peering down at me.

"Melancholy? Oh...I don't know...I'm just feeling down. Like I just had the most amazing day of my life yesterday...today's the day after, and I feel all drained and empty...like I'm waiting for something that's so much more...more than this." When I talk, usually my hands are everywhere – I'm one of those who talk with their hands – but I feel like a puppet today – something else is telling me what to do.

"I wish I could say I know exactly how you're feeling, but that would be a lie. However...I know how it is, to long for something that you feel will never happen..." She grinned, managing to raise my spirits fractionally. "But don't let it keep you down; don't bury yourself with the dead. They're gone, and we'll mourn their passing, but we don't belong with them in the ground. Buck up."

"But-" Before I could complain about anything else, she punched me in the face. Not too hard – I've endured worse – but enough to make my head snap back a bit.

"What the hell was that for?" I yelled, jumping up only to step on something poky and painful. Probably the plug-in for my lamp. That hurt a lot more than the punch ever could have. Holly waited patiently until I stopped hopping around, cursing gently.

"Well, I'd bet that you're not thinking about anything depressing in the least now. In fact, you're probably feeling pretty toasty. Go yell at the rat or something – it'd do both of you some good." She grinned once more, then took my silence as leave, hopped off the bed, and exited the room, laughing.

"Yeah, thanks," I muttered, actually considering yelling at the rat. He'd screwed up my room, messing things worse than I ever have. Mom would kill me if she could see it now. She always insisted on a clean room, and this was miles away from clean, if even that. If I didn't get cleaning soon...

But first thing first – I tucked the plug-in under the lamp so I wouldn't step on it again. For the next hour, I cleaned and lost myself in the ordinary rhythm of pickup.

"Excuse me, I believe we have a spat to get over and done with?" The voice was right next to my ear, startling me into jerking up and banging my head on the bed I had been working under.

Why did I put up with these abusive characters? I wondered as I nursed the new bump on my head.

"The shouting match?" the rat reminded me once more, prodding me with both his tail and his words.

"No thanks...she was just saying that to be facetious. Thanks for the offer, though. How are the two lovebirds?" As to this last question, it was a change of subject, yest, but I was genuinely curious. I had never liked the ending of the series, because it was a little bit too sad for my liking. Don't get me wrong; the author is an amazing writer, but...I like the poor 'mains to be left in a slightly happier situation.

He rolled his eyes. "Pining for each other still, probably. He's sneaked back a couple times. His mom hates the place, but his dad gets the picture. I don't know if they'll have any sort of future at all, but...at least they'll still have each other for a while yet."

"Too bad." I shook my head. "I'd like to meet both of them someday. How come you're the only one I've met so far?"

"Like I said, they're pretty much wrapped up in each other – don't have time, apparently. Rest assured, they're not dead."

"Good." I rose from my sitting position on the floor, then took a deep breath. "Okay. Now to Algebra and Chemistry..."

"Well, let me know if you need help. Just because I don't have opposable thumbs doesn't mean I can't read. I am very well acquainted with matters mathematical." He yawned then disappeared down the hallway.

"If I need help remembering Pinafore, I'll let you know." I laughed, then headed the opposite direction.

It's been a while...and this isn't as great as before - I half forgot my ideas from before, but I'm remembering, too. Just bear with me for a while, and I'll find the great original idea someday...

By the way, Ripred's line is from Pirates of Penzance.