Virginia...

 Let me introduce myself... 

My name is Virginia.

I have to say I have no idea why my parents called me Virginia. To me the name dictates a strong, brave women, who would intuitively protect those around her, and due to silly curiosity, I looked up its meaning... I was surprised to discover it meant, pure, virgin bride, and chaste... well I don't think so, how the hell do you think I cornered my victims? The only person I want to protect, is me... so for your own safety, if you're weak, and present as vulnerable, stay the hell away.    

I grew up amongst Monsters, and quickly Iearned how to stay safe. I figured out that if you scanned your surroundings then the feedback would infiltrate you, with the information you'd need... I learned so much, I had all the answers, which meant I'd always have my say, and being in control is paramount. 

I'm everybody's friend, until I'm not. 

It all started with pain, and then those damn voices came.

I quickly learned to achieve the skills I'd use to my advantage.  At a young age I became use to assessing, and reporting.  This was how I became able to design an internal pilot scheme, to get rid of certain individuals who I knew would become a drain in my world.

The scheme was specific and I followed my guidelines to the letter... anything else just wouldn't do. 

From an early age I sensed the stranger inside of me, the stranger whispered its lies, and told stories to claim victims. She was relentless, even I felt anxious of the lengths she would go to.

...Things happened to her, terrible things, things she doesn't ever want to discuss or think about. So, if you ever meet Virginia, for God's sake don't show any sensitivity or weakness, because, if it's one thing she detests, it's someone who may let her down... 

MJ Ewen 

Writers Are Never Alone...

If I can help you see that beautiful light within then my purpose has been exposed, find that light, and find your magic, because we all have it... 

MJ

Jumping off the stairs she lands on all fours and for a moment she resembles a monkey. In her crouched position she is paused... her mind is still, whilst her hair cascades across her face, but through the breaks, I see big grey, green eyes, and as her black lashes blink, robot like, she begins to stand.

It's been a while but another Character waits to enter The Loft... 

Leaning against the wall I relax into my folded arms.  I decide to wait for her to speak.  I'm usually the communicator, the one who draws them out of their shells, but I decide for this one I need to spend time observing, for future reference. 

There is something intriguing about her. The character seems familiar, but I'm sure I've never met her before. 

"May I speak?" She whispers,

"Of course"

"I'm lost, I don't know where I am" visibly, she shivers.

"This is The Loft, where people come to wait"

"Wait?" She queries

"Yes,  it's like a half way house, where you spend time before you're included into a writers world" and with that explanation out of the hat I smugly hug myself tighter, feeling secure that my explanation is enough. 

Silence... Confusion...

"Why would I come here to go into a story?  I don't understand,  I want to go home"

Flummoxed, I'm confused now...

"But you are home, anyone who lands here usually wants to stay,  although, I did once have a couple who decided to leave, however, it's highly unusual"

This will never do, I thought, sensing my own irritability...

"But I'm not a character to be placed into a book,  I'm me,  I just don't know where I came from, I feel so confused, but I know who I am, and I don't think I want to be inserted with words, in-between pages"

(Silence)

My mind works over-time, I'll have to let her work through this.

"My name's Mary, she offers, I'm a good person, I'm clever, I studied hard and have a degree in philosophy and English Literature. My life seems real hazy right now, and I feel fearful because my mind is overwhelmingly foggy about everything else"

"Its ok Mary, it'll all become clear, I promise... and being someone important in a writers mind isn't for everyone, sometimes it's something you'll grow into, sometimes it can be something you help your writer with, quite often writers need a helping hand to grow their characters, and that's where you'd be the perfect asset, I watch as her demeanour softens, you're going to love your new job, Mary, we can take it easy, and go at your pace, if it's not for you, then you can leave at any time, but usually, once here, you'll want to stay. The Loft is warm, inviting, interesting and that amazing degree you've worked hard for, it'll be helpful, because that means you're a communicator, and there are some characters in The Loft who definitely need help" with another warm smile, I wink in her direction. 

"I like to help, I love getting to know people and I especially like to understand others, hence my philosophy knowledge" she looks up towards the top of the winding stairs, where those double doors beckon to all of my clients, and the characters who nestle there know that at some point I'll need them. 

"Maybe I'll stop for a little while then, she looks at me and asks, what's your name?"

"It's Mary-Jane, but my friends call me MJ"

"Ah she cries, no wonder I've grown to like you, we share our first name"

"Why what's your second name" I ask,

And as I watch her face, I smile, knowing her realisation is but a word away... 

"My second name is, Jane" she splutters...

Sometimes you don't have to understand the way of the land, often times, acceptance is the key, but never think writers are lonely, because we're not...

MJ Ewen 

The Lake...

Detective Emily Crawford leans forward as she watches her diver disappear beneath the calm, shimmering lake. The only evidence that he'd been there, were his air bubbles. 

The call came in at 9:05am.

Sylvia's voice, shaky, dials the number for the police. She lowers herself behind a big oak tree... terrified, he mustn't see her. She whispers her information and the lakes terrible secret, into the mouth piece. The phone signal isn't that great, it cuts out... she hopes they've heard. and before she scampers away, she looks back across the lake and almost cries out, as she realises who it is. 

Sylvia had been walking, enjoying the early morning sun. Her binoculars pinpoint the woods, beautiful birds, who as usual, search frantically for food. Sylvia stops to look, as she hears the boat chugging its way towards the middle of the lake, nothing unusual about that except it stops, and the engine cuts-out. Peering through her binoculars, she watches as the hooded figure looks around, it takes a minute or so before he bends down to retrieve something from the floor of his boat.  

Her long black hair hangs over his arm.  He's strong, he holds her up high, kisses her, and then drops her into the lake, and he viciously pushes her under the water, she sinks immediately, which must mean she's weighed down. 

Sylvia, reaches home... and with a squeaky voice which sounds breathless, she explains she is scared, yet despite this she grips the phone tight. She's being questioned, and then she tells the lady Detective, that she knows who it is, she saw him clearly through her binoculars...

"Who is it?" The Detective asks, impatiently.

But before Sylvia answers, there's a hell of a bang, she screams into the phone... Emily Crawford, still on the line knows whoever is there with Sylvia, isn't paying a friendly visit. 

Sylvia, shouts,

 "It's you, oh my god, MICHAEL MORRISON" she screams in terror as the phone is knocked out of her hand. 

One blow to her small delicate head, is all it takes. 

and then silence... 

Detective Emily Crawford, listens further, Sylvia had gone quiet, but she hears whosoever's there pick up the phone, and she knows they're listening... Emily, switches off the call and quickly rings through for back up, advising, she'd be there as soon as she was through at the lake. 

Within minutes, Emily sees the diver beneath the lakes, murky water, he has a body in his arms...

MJ Ewen