I mean, now I'm writing about something as absurd as the characters I'm writingĪbout appearing in my own home. Some days I think that they'll all drive me crazy. I guess I'm not very convincing in this state, but he backs off. "Pipe down or you'll be the star of Hanging around 3!" I snap, sneezing again. Therefore it's powerful against the characters I write about. The pencil is the tool with which I scribble down all my stories before I sit down and make the final "Shut up, both of you," I grumble, waving at Zemus with my pencil. He is bald and has purple skin and is dressed in a black cloak with golden edges, hiding his whole "I feel pretty alive so far," yet another tall man replies. "And that would be thee, I presume?" Frog snorts. "Humph, you sneeze enough to awake the dead," a cold voice sneers. And you can tell him that if I ever write that story, he'll only have one I remember whom I'm talking to and spare him it. "Thee dost not sound too good," Frog kindly says. "I hope he kills me fast." I mutter, rubbing my neck and burying my nose in a handkerchief. Planning to write another crossover starring him, so he is hunting thee." "Ah, good that I found thee first," he smiles up at me, "Magus said that he hast noted that thou art Halfway through the corridor I run into Frog. I shake my head as I leave the room while the god of war takes my hairbrush to sort out his blondĬurls. "True, but you are planning to write about Tales of Phantasia, so I'm staying here." "I haven't written a single word about you at this point anyhow," I snarl, "you shouldn't even be able "Fine, it felt like a sarcophagus today anyhow." "And I'm no magician or head of a police force, and I'm not consuming Mana. "I do not have to argue with you!" he snorts. He steps out of the mirror, sourly crossing his arms. Two silvery orbs keep dancing around him. The shadow hanging over me turns into a transparent, tall man dressed in mostly blue and softly red Stumble into the bathroom again, with the black pencil pointing at my reflection and the shadow. I rush back into my bedroom and grab the pencil lying on my three halfway filled note-blocks. Why didn't I see that a moment ago when I There's a cloaked skeleton floating around my reflection. I put on my thick morning coat, staring at my own miserable sight in the mirror. I stumble into the bathroom, grabbing my glasses as I pass the desk by my bed. why am I thinking inĮnglish, anyway? I'm Swedish, for God's sake! Still I keep it up. But nobody that hears me can understand the words I'm using. Even though I try to convince myself that I should be behavingĪnd all that. Doesn't sound like a horrifying sickness until you've got it. people you normally don't expect to have at home. Like having the cold of the lifetime and having the house full of. But I figured that there are worse things than having a cold. One of those colds that makes you think "God, now it can't get any worse! No way!" or something similar. I feel a need of explaining my intensions. Note: You might need to read "Magus quest" and "Hanging around", maybe also "Monsters ofĭeepest depths of horror", to understand some of the jokes. If I did, I wouldn't have time to write anymore :)
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