Melissa sat, pen in hand, spilling her ideas onto the paper. Her mind continued to fuel the wrist movement, and the words just kept flowing. In her mind, the majority of her characters were extensions of herself, be it her darker or more pleasant qualities.
She laid down the pencil, giving her hand a break. The pain that had started in her wrist had spread up to her neck. She left the room to find something for the pain.
She returned having downed a Bayer and a half-glass of tea, ready to continue her work. Instead, she was met by a young woman with long red hair, green eyes, and a brilliant smile — just like one of her characters.
“Hello, mother,” the character said.