Across the keyboard, my fingers flew. As if in a frenzied fever, I was trying to crank out a new story to post. If I ever get around to this one, I hope you’ll all enjoy it. It’s about a girl from a strange, Amazonian-like culture who must travel halfway across the world to avenge the deaths of her sisters. Unfortunately, that story will have to wait until another day, because on the day when this all began, I met two people I never thought I would.

Normally, this would be where I, or any normal writer for that sense, would regale you readers with what my daily routine is like. How much I hate life when I wake up in the morning. Shouting matches with my mom. Dry toast. A cold shower that takes forever to warm up. And checking to see what updates there are with views to my stories.

I’m not ashamed to admit it! The rest of you are!

But yeah, you can easily guess that this is what my summer days are like starting at 7:30. I’m never allowed to sleep in. It sucks…

Since I’m pressed for time, I have to skip ahead and get to just after lunch while I was eating a strawberry poptart and jerky sandwich. It was extremely dry and subversive, just the way I like my Tumblr posts. I was half way through the tasty treat when I heard the doorbell ring.

“Ruben, get the door,” my mother screeched at me.

“You get it,” I called back angrily. How dare anyone try to get me out of the zone!

“Ruben, so help me you better get that door,” she yelled again as the door bell began chiming incessantly.

“Bastards like these don’t deserve to have the door opened up to them,” I muttered under my breath.

I had to get up and do it. I normally don’t like doing what my mom tells me to do. I’m independent and can take care of myself! Well, at least at home I can. I learned from opening that door that there are many things I cannot take care of or protect myself from. And it doesn’t matter how independent you consider yourself to be. If an ancient cult of magical beings that protects the very fabric of reality fights and order of government funded imagination and dream terrorists, while a madman tries to break down the barriers between 7 billion crazed thoughts and Earth, your free will means very, very little.

Trust me, this is like coming to know that the Elder Gods are real. You can never go back! And on that note, after everything I’ve learned, I can confirm that the Elder Gods do exist. On at least a few thousand different worlds. So, you Lovecraft fans can now rejoice!

Or tremble in fear, whichever you prefer the most. In any case, I’m rambling again.

I marched grumpily to the door and threw it open, hoping that my bad case of halitosis would frighten away the visitors. It did not. Instead two teenagers looked down at me, somewhat disappointed.

Normally, from a first person advantage, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to fully describe two people you meet in an instant before they shoulder their way into your home, no matter what the stories say. But after being around these two for a little while and getting a chance to better take in their looks, I can properly describe them.

The one I noticed instantly was a tall, fit, African American girl who had cut and stylized her hair to be a mohawk that she combed over to the side. Where the rest of her head would have normally been shaved, there was a fine layer of hair growing back. She was wearing a white tank top and deep blue jeans. She sported a spiked nose ring.

Next to her was a boy, just a bit shorter than her, with dirty blond-brown hair that was beginning to get a little too long. He wore a t-shirt obviously ordered from the cheaper side of the internet with faded pants and wearing a flannel shirt over the ensemble. He wore a good natured smile, despite his eyes giving me a wary and let-down glance, while the girl had a mask of resentment plastered to her.

“Ruben Garcia, I presume,” she said in a clipped tone.

“Yes,” I answered, feeling a little anxious all of a sudden; it happens around strangers.

“We are Naomi and Trick,” she said hurriedly.

I felt a smile come to my lips. This was the perfect moment! The moment when a random story on the internet becomes famous and garneras its first horde of rabid, insane fans! I was so lucky!

But then it dawned on me that with a following of terrible fans I would be forced to move. And my mom would blame it all on me. There would be a big fight, and a hellish move afterwards. I wouldn’t be able to write for a while. And I would lose all of my fans and forever slip into obscurity! The internet is very unforgiving in that way.

“Um,” was what I managed to say, before Naomi forced her way into my hose, pushing me back.

“Ruben! Who is at the door,” my mother shouted.

“The girl scouts,” the boy called back. “We’ve brought you a wonderful sample of our Samoan cookies!”

“I’m allergic to coconut! And the girl scouts are a joke! Please leave,” my mother called to them.

Now you all see what I have had to live with!

The girl ignored my mother and forced me now to sit down. Her eyes were dancing all over, as if trying to take everything in. The boy on the other hand just looked down at me and considered me for a moment.

“You’re not exactly what I was expecting,” he mumbled.

“What were you expecting,” I said, challenging.

“Someone a little more plump,” Trick admitted. “I mean, with the amount that you have written about us, and with all that other stuff you post on the web, I’d have thought you did nothing else but write.”

“You’re not Trick,” I snapped. “And you’re not Naomi either! She doesn't have a nose ring! Ha! So there!”

The two shared a glance. It was perfect. Too perfect.

“That’s the strange thing,” the boy muttered. “How could you get so much of our adventures right, but get so much else wrong! I mean, I saw what you wrote to one comment about readers shipping me and Naomi together, and you said we’d never be a couple.”

“We started dating right after our first adventure together,” the girl said, all business like. “We’ve been together ever since.”

“Even with the rough patches.”

“Nothing that a little D&D sex couldn’t fix.”

The boy sucked in some sai and said, “Oh! That was rough! But oh so g-”

“Okay! Way too much information,” I said, hopping out of my chair and waving my arms. You would have thought I was declaring a runner safe. “This has gone far enough!”

“Ruben, they’re just little girls! Punt them off the doormat if you have to,” my mother yelled.

“We have delicious peanut butter ones too,” the boy shouted back to her.

“It makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth! That is one of the worst feelings in the world!”

“She’s not wrong,” the boy replied with a grin. “I mean, just think of what one PB&J sandwich could do Barney!”

That earned him a hard slug to the shoulder from the athletic girl. He just shrugged it off and giggled. Okay, the similarities were getting uncanny, and it felt too perfect.

“Alright,” I said, trying to calm myself down. “I see that you want to to talk. That you want to impress me with your knowledge of my stories. That is fine. We can go and talk outside. But please tell me your real names.”

“Trick,” the boy said with a friendly wave.

“And I am Naomi,” the girl replied. “Now get back in your seat! We need to chat.”

She shoved me back hard and I stumbled back into my seat. I started sweating something fierce. This was getting my anxiety working up to danger levels. And it was clear that these two fans of mine were not going to give up their roles easily. Method actors, i figured.

“Look Ruben, we’ve come all the way across the country to find you and talk with you. As unbelievable as it seems,” the girl explained. “You have been writing stories about our lives for nearly a year now. You have gotten a lot of things right, but there have been some discrepancies. It was almost as if they were on purpose, but from the way you treated our histories it was clear that you thought we were fictional.”

“Here, if you need some evidence,” the boy said, pulling out some pictures and papers from his pockets. “Sorry, they’re crumpled. But we have more evidence of who we really are in the unmarked white van parked just up the road.”

This earned him another slug from the girl. It then occurred to me that I had never stopped to question just how bruised Trick’s shoulder should get after just one day with Naomi. That was writer’s oversight on my part.

I hazarded a glance at the materials the boy was laying out before. There it was, FBI reports, copies of messages, student IDs, driver’s licenses, and more. I gave it all a very thorough. I honestly couldn't tell if it was all fake or not. I’m not invited often enough to crazy parties after school, so I have no idea how advanced with Photoshop the kids have gotten in making their own fake IDs.

I decided to play along.

Reclining back in my seat, I said, “Okay, Trick. Naomi. Welcome to my house. You have me convinced! Why did you two come and find me?”

“Would you believe us if we said we were looking for someone to share in an adventure,” Trick asked.

Naomi rolled her eyes. So like her, it was unnerving!

“Look,” she said. “We’ve come to get you because you are in danger. Your stories have been noticed by people whom we suspect are going around and cleaning up the witnesses and messes we leave behind from our different journeys. A lot of people have gone missing recently, and we’ve received as well some terrifying reports.”

“We’ve also been shot at, if that helps,” Trick added.

“It’s hard to say shot at when they were using tranquilizers,” Naomi said.

“I’m quite certain they were using elephant guns,” he retorted.

“Whatever. The point is that you are in danger-”

“Like you’ve said,” I replied, cutting her off.

She shot me an angry look and continued, “And to keep you alive you must come with us. We need your specific gift of being able to see the stories that happening out there. We believe that you can look into the realms of Imagination. And that is something we desperately need at the moment.”

“Aaaaand this has been a wonderful conversation! How about I get us a snack,” I said, wishing I were back with my half eaten sandwich.

As I got up to go to the kitchen and escape these weirdos for a moment, Naomi caught my arm and pulled me back. Coloring her angry expression was a sense of urgency and even fear. Her eyes were growing wide.

“Ruben, we need to get going. I’m not sure how long it will take the Syndicate-”

“We just chose that name because it sounded ominous and murderous,” Trick interjected with an uneasy smile.

Naomi shot him another unhappy glare before continuing, “As I was saying, the Syndicate is after you. We were lucky to discover about you thanks to a tip the Sphinx got. And we were also lucky that they were hunting some other people then so they weren’t focusing on you.”

“I wouldn’t call that exactly lucky,” Trick sighed. “At least for the poor bastards who all got killed.”

“What are you talking about,” I finally managed to ask.

“Ruben,” Naomi said, dropping her voice to a near whisper. “We found out about your stories. They’re all true. Every single one of them. But you always ended them before you saw the ending. If you had, you would know who is coming. They’ve covered everything up, and now they’ll be after you. They are gathering and killing everyone who has a connection to the Realms. You have that connection! We need to get you some place safer so we can find out what is going on.”

“I already know what is going on,” I huffed. “My house has been invaded by some psychos who read my stories, found out where I live, and are now badgering me with some crazy story to try and freak me out! Get out!”

“You tell those girls, Ruben,” my mother shouted. “Git!”

“Well, since this isn’t getting anywhere, let us have that snack,” Trick said, waling off towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going,” I hissed.

“To make you a final meal,” he replied. “I make a wicked peanut butter and jelly sandwich!”

I was honestly dumbfounded and found myself following him. I cannot say how he was able to do it, but he knew his way around my kitchen like he lived there! And sure enough, he whipped up a pretty bomb PB&J. I was kinda jealous of his skills. I told him I would rather have my poptart sandwich.

I sat down at my table, or would have, but naomi pulled out the chair from under me. I crashed hard to the floor with a yelp.

And a bullet narrowly missed me.

It blew a hole into the center of the table. That could have been my head! And then I wouldn’t have had any! I heard the echoing rumble of a discharged gun. And then I registered yelling. From there, it was like everything went silent.

Anxiety is already a bear to deal with. But when you find yourself under deadly fire, it just robs you of all your senses and any sense you might have had. I vaguely remember Naomi and Trick hauling me away. I know they guided me outside, and into a van, because I came to inside of it after Naomi slapped and splashed me with some water.

That is the last I saw of my house as the van pulled away, a woman with loose, flowing brown hair crouching and firing out the back with an assault rifle at two other cars chasing after us.

“What… What is going on,” I mumbled.

“We were found out,” Trick answered with a shout.

Someone called the front, “I think they’ve found a way to track us!”

It was a woman’s voice. A man’s voice answered.

“We’ll need to ditch this vehicle! I know of a place where we can go! Stacy, get ready to send a message with these coordinates!”

I missed what he said next, but I did hear Naomi shout, “Trick, blow them to hell.”

I saw something fly out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see Trick handle a long rod. He yanked something out of the top and then hurled it at the two pursuing cars. They were both shaded and unmarked, black sedans. I only then realized what it was that he threw at them. It was a bomb!

One car swerved dangerously and avoided the explosion. The other car was not so lucky. The bomb went off right under the one sedan and made it jump into the air. The first explosion was followed by a smaller one as the engine erupted. The car then drove blindly into someone’s porch.

“We’re going to get arrested,” I found myself saying.

“Nah, it’s either escape or die,” Trick smiled and winked at me.

I just gaped at him as he took out a traditional grenade and tossed it out the open door.