literature

Voices in My Head from Another World

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   In the gym of Joan Academy – a Catholic school teaching from Kindergarten to the 8th grade – there was a gathering of all grades to see the guest speaker. She stood in the middle of the gym and, with the use of the microphone given to her, began talking about her past life and how she finally published her book: The Elven Warrior.
   The guest speaker who has arrived at Joan Academy happens to be a student from the said area, and her name was known only as Mary-Anne Hummel. She stands almost as tall as the principal, at least 5’8” ft. She has wavy black-red hair reaching down to her mid-back, and brown eyes that shine with happiness whenever she was talking about her novel or how she had begun to love the fantasy genre. For that certain day, she decided to dress professionally all while wearing Joan Academy’s colors, which were blue and gold.

   Just after she finished answering one of the students’ questions, the bell rang loudly, indicating that it was lunch time. As the students lined up and left one by one, Mary-Anne waved them goodbye with a smile plastered on her face. Once each and every student has left the gym, Mary-Anne took off her shoes and got off the stage. Just as she was about to leave, her former Principal waved her over to speak with her. She walked over to the principal and shook her hand, showing her gratitude for speaking as a guest.

“Thank you for coming again, Mary-Anne,” Principal Joanna Arc – who is the head of Joan Academy – said with a smile. “The students really enjoyed meeting you.”

“Oh, I would do anything for this school,” Mary-Anne said with a small smile just as she adjusted her laptop bag. “Besides, it’s a tradition for Joan Academy to bring in an author who puts in Catholicism or… well, any other religion, for that matter, within their own readings. How’d you think my science teacher ended up speaking when I was in 5th grade?”

“You’ve got a point,” Principal Joan said with laughter. “Anyways, you get home safely, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Anne said with a smile and a nod. “You do the same.”
    As soon as they said their goodbyes, Mary-Anne turned and began to walk away. As she walked out of the gym, she grabbed a scrunchie from her pocket and proceeded to put her hair up in a high ponytail. Just as she neared the exit from the school to the parking lot, a voice bounced off the walls and fell onto her ears.

“C’mon, Mary-Anne…,” echoed the voice, making the author stop in her tracks.
   Just as she turned around, she was expecting a ghost from her past to attack her as if she was the unfortunate protagonist from The Entity. As she did, though, the only person she saw was Principal Joanna.

“Mary-Anne,” Principal Joanna said as she walked over to her, “you look as if you’ve witnessed a murder. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you were the one calling my name!” Mary-Anne responded nervously, feeling a sweat on her brow. “I thought I was hallucinating or something.”

“… yeah, you need to go home,” Principal Joanna said with a slight shake of her head. “I keep forgetting you’re the schizophrenic.”

“R-Right, right,” Mary-Anne said with a small smile, trying to hide the feeling that she was being stalked by some crazy fan in the depths of her mind. “I’ll call you and let you know when I’ve arrived home…”
   Just as Principal Joanna was about to say something, Mary-Anne exited and quickly ran to her white Honda Element as if her life depended on it. She unlocked the car and got in, and before she could start the car, she heard the voice once again.

“C’mon, Mary-Anne…,” the unknown voice said again, making the author look around slowly and surely, making sure that she let no one in the car.
   Once she assured herself that she was safe, she locked the doors, cranked the car up, and eventually drove to her apartment.

X~X~X~X

   Almost thirty minutes passes by, and Mary-Anne drove nervously until she got back to Luke’s Apartment Complex’s parking lot, where she sighed in relief. She parks her car in front of the apartment she owns, and just as she turns off the car, she sat still and thought to herself about the voice.

“Who… is that…?” thought Mary-Anne, holding her head as if she had gotten a severe migraine. “That voice sounds as if he would sound like one of the character’s I’ve made for my novel… but it couldn’t be… could it…?”

You’re so beautiful~… Give the world a show~… Jumping in her seat, she heard Empire’s “You’re So Beautiful” – sung by Jussie Smollett, who plays Jamal Lyon in the hit TV series – play on her phone, indicating that she was to work on another novel of hers, which is still a work in progress to where she has not named her book.
   So she pushed the thoughts in the back of her mind, got out of the car, and once she gathered her things, walked to the door leading to her apartment. Flipping the keys on her key chains, she finally found her house keys, and just as she was about to unlock the door, she heard a voice again.

“Lady Mary-Anne…,” the voice – though different this time – whispered, causing her to shake her head and put a hand on her head in relief.

“Okay, that voice is just from my schizophrenia,” the author said with a slight sigh of relief. “The voice I called Lady Amalthea.”
   With a small giggle, she walked in her home and closed the door behind her, embracing the fact that she got home safe and sound.


   The first place she landed was her soft, comfortable, clean loveseat. The loveseat – though from the acclaimed Fine Furniture Design – was used by her mother, who passed it down to her. It was a soft bright red with two pillows on each couch, which were – in turn – grey with a rose pattern. There were imprints where she and her family had originally sat in, but it was fair enough where there were no springs appearing, no cotton coming out of it, and not even a stench from where her old cat – Marissa – marked her territory.
   As soon as she took off her shoes ever so gracefully, she stood up and walked over to her mahogany table, which was another piece of furniture her father had passed down to her. Her family admired Fine Furniture Designs when it came to tables, chairs for the table, and even China cabinets. However, anything other than – like, say the bedroom and the dressers – they would head on over to Beautyrest in order to find the most comfortable bed out there. As for other accessories such as the rugs, dishes, and even formal dresses, they would pass down these accessories from their ancestors, starting with their great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother Mary, who was a seamstress, and her husband Gary, who made most of his dishes by hand.

   Upon entering the kitchen, she grabs a box of saltine crackers and a wedge of Laughing Cow’s original Swiss cheese, as well as a knife. She reached into the fridge and grabbed at a Neuro Daily Immunity bottle, which she grabs when she wants anything carbonated, but without all the sugars and carbs that are over 35.

“Lunch,” thought Mary-Anne with a sigh as she waltzed over to her mahogany table. “Now let’s get started before I even hear </u>that strange voice again.”

“Miss Mary-Anne…,”</i> speaking of whom, the voice she had brought up came about and sounded as if someone was whispering in her ear.

“Speak of the Devil…,” Mary-Anne thought with a sigh, sitting down and pulling out her trusty equipment: a Mac laptop, a pen, and a book where she has written ideas on what to do in her work in progress novel. “Just ignore that voice and pretend that he’s… a ghost… no, maybe… maybe a Dark Elf… yeah, that’ll work…”

   Shaking the voice out of her head and waiting for the other voices she usually hears, she began to do research on Elves once again, as well as dragons and what the human is like. As she wrote down the ideas in beautiful cursive on a blank space in her book, she looked up names that had meanings behind them and would reflect the personalities. While she thought about what the character should look like, she grabbed a cracker, cut a small piece of cheese, and – after spreading the cheese on the cracker – annihilated it in one bite.

X~X~X~X

DING…!! DING…!! DING…!! The old Grandfather clock rang at 9 PM sharp, alerting Mary-Anne as to what time it is. She looked back at the clock and noticed the time. Realizing how late it was, she stretched her arms as a yawn escaped her lungs. She lightly scratched her head and looked at how much work she has done so far.

“I just got finished with Chapter 8 of this story,” Mary-Anne thought with a frown, “and I still</u> haven’t thought of a title!!”
   Upon realizing this, Mary-Anne sighed and shook her head with a sigh. With frustration, she closed the laptop and laid her head down on top of it.

“Just give me an idea, and I’ll work with it…,” Mary-Anne prayed in her thought, wanting to get her book finished by the coming deadline. “Just help me…”
Before she knew it, though, she drifted into a deep slumber. One fit for a queen, a man would say. One fit for a goddess, another creature would say.

X~X~X~X

CLANG!!! CRASH!!! The sound of objects dropping on the floor awoke Mary-Anne in alarm. She glanced around the area she’s located in, and finds that she is still in her current location: the dining room, which connected with the kitchen.
   Slowly, she stood from her position and listened for another sound to come about. Just as she did, she slowly waltzed away from her chair and into the core of her apartment. As she did so, she hoped, prayed even, that it was just her knocking down something from the table. However, what she heard next surprised her: the same voice that spoke to her in her mind, but from her bedroom, of all places.

“Will you be careful, Amalthea?” hissed the male voice, annoyed at some person named Amalthea for some reason. ‘You’ll wake someone up!”

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t help being a klutz,” a soft-spoken, yet monotonous feminine voice retorted coldly. “It’s who I am.”

“It’s also how you were born,” the male voice grumbled, starting up an argument faster than you can say “hot potato.”
   As the voices – both whom she’s heard from her head – continued to bicker, Mary-Anne slowly walked from the heart of the apartment to the brain of the area: her bedroom. Upon walking in, her eyes adjusted enough to allow her to see two people standing in her room, still arguing over the female’s personality quirk. Quietly, Mary-Anne positioned her hand on the wall to find the light switch.

Click. Upon finding the switch, she turned it on, blinding herself and the two intruders. All three people in the room covered their eyes in unison, as if they were playing a game.

“Crap~!” Mary-Anne cursed within her mind as her eyes attempted to adjust once more. “Why’d I-oh, right. To see the people who’re in my home.”
   As soon as her eyes eventually got used to the lights that shone like a diamond, she looked at the intruders, and to her surprise, they weren’t Humans. They were Elves.

   The woman – whom she could only guess is Amalthea – has hair as red as fire, and it is as long as a waterfall, just stopping at her thighs. Her eyes are as green as grass, and they gleamed with curiosity. Her outfit, though hard to even describing the fabric, is a simple dress that stops just at her knees, and brown boots with a mink-like fur hanging from the hem of the boots, making her camouflage in her woodland home.
   The male, however, is different from many other Elves whom she’s written or read about. He was at least a foot taller, being taller than Mary-Anne and Amalthea, His hair was as black as midnight, and yet his eyes are as blue as the morning sky. His outfit does camouflage like Amalthea’s outfit, yet the clothing he’s donned are as noble as the Elven King Thranduil from Tolkien’s The Hobbit.

“Oh, Mary-Anne!” Amalthea spoke, snapping the author from her state of confusion.

“Y-Yeah~… that’s me,” Mary-Anne said with a nervous laugh. “Mind telling me where you came from?”

“From our home of Gabirel,” the Elven male answered, making Mary-Anne look at him in surprise. “One minute, we were walking through the halls of Dalek Halls, and the next thing we knew, some person used Black Magic and teleported us from our world to yours.”

“… so you’re from my book,” Mary-Anne said with surprise. “And yet… I only recognize Amalthea, but not you, sir.”

“Apparently, I’m new,” the male said in a blunt tone, making Mary-Anne glare at him. “You just wrote me in your book, or… something like that. Hence why I have no name or you have no recognition of me.”

“Give her time, will you?” Amalthea said with a frown. “She wants to match the personality with the name.”

“I… I can make a deal with you,” Mary-Anne said, catching the Elves’ attention. “If I give you a name… can you guys give me ideas for my latest book?”

“We cannot promise you this much,” the Elven male said, “but we will do the best we can.”
   Nodding, Mary-Anne reached for her scrunchie and pulls it out of her hair, letting it fall as gracefully as a cat would from a high place. Putting the hair band around her wrist, she looked at the Elven man and concentrated on a few of his traits. From his boot to the roots of his black hair, and from his blunt attitude to the way a noble stands, Mary-Anne circled him slowly, taking in a few traits in mind.

“You are as tough as a warrior,” Mary-Anne began, looking at the characteristics, “but not for the people. You’re loyal, but you have blunt moments… you even act like a brat from time to time, at least from the first few minutes I’ve met you.”
   At this, Amalthea snickered at the last trait, which – in turn – was given a glare that could kill from the Elven man.

“You’re definitely nice,” Mary-Anne said, catching the man’s attention. “You seem to fight for honor and for your friends. For that, I give you credit… I think your name would be Cibor.”
   Silence filled the air as soon as she named the Elven man. Amalthea looked at the newly named Cibor, and the named Elf looked back at Amalthea in surprise. Mary-Anne took this as a sign of “let me think about it” and gave them a few minutes.

“Cibor… I like that,” Cibor finally said, making Mary-Anne sigh in relief. “Then that shall be my name.”

“Great!” Mary-Anne said with a smile, grabbing both Cibor and Amalthea by their wrists. “Now that we’ve given you a name, let’s attempt to get from Chapter 8 all the way to Chapter 10!”
   Just as she drags the two from her bedroom to her “study area,” Mary-Anne had come to realize that while this might be a hallucination, it also could mean a grand idea awaiting her. With that thought, a title finally pops in her mind: The Elven Warrior: From Another World.

“My title…,” Mary-Anne said with a smile. “I can have Amalthea and Cibor help me document how different this world is from theirs, and rename Earth as a different country, maybe!”

“What is she concocting…?” Cibor asked, looking over to Amalthea. “She has that same smile she used the last time she’s listened to another voice.”

“Oh, give her rest,” Amalthea said with a small smile. “Let her listen to the voices in her head. They’ve never failed her before, and they won’t fail her now.”

Fin
... Yeah, this came into my head a few days ago.
Okay, so who knows a song called "C'mon, Marianne?" I don't! I've heard it from Strange Magic, as it was a mashup song if sorts with Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)." And this was originally supposed to be an author entering the world she gave life to... and yet I wanted to do something different, and this is the result... moo.

Okay, let's be real here. This was actually for my Workshop class, and this is my Longer Story. I... actually like it. Sure, there might be a mess up here or there, but I enjoyed writing it. So... comment and tell me what you think. And yes... I like Empire so much I used one of the songs as a ringtone... don't judge.

Disclaimer: I don't own Empire (God, I wish I did), the song from the aforementioned show, and "C'mon, Marianne." I own this story, and I own the characters.

Another Note: I do NOT know if schizophrenics actually hear voices. I took the advice from both Wikipedia and from what :iconthebigcrunchone9: has said about his one OC (or two). So... don't kill me for offending you if I did. I researched as much as I could.
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