What Nicole Thinks of People Who Make Original Characters (by Nicole):

I sat on the cold, stone bench, the last of the red evening light gently draped across my skin. The night breeze embraced my bare legs and made a pleasant whooshing sound as it crept through the surrounding grass. It was here that he had told me to wait; from here he would sweep me away. The crickets began their nocturnal symphony just as the red sky dulled to lavender. I tingled with anticipation. It was all so perfect; some had even called it impossible. He had, after all, been intertwined so flawlessly into the life of another person. His circumstances and hers, as if guided by the divine, had swirled together into a story worthy of a bestselling novel. But he was coming for me.

Lavender turned to deep purple as the stars began to materialize. I ran a finger over my ear, feeling the gentle curve taper into the pointed end typical of a half-fairy. It was still early, so I continued to ruminate in detail on my mythical appearance and accompanying abilities. My eyes were violet and bronze-flecked, capable of assuming a rich chocolate color in times of passion. The lashes were full and black as night. I took a breath and glanced at the horizon. Still early. I guided my finger over the curve of my nose and down to my full, crimson lips, above which sat a tiny birthmark in the shape of a moon. It was my mark, something that set me apart from the rest of my family and something that I did not fully understand. Just touching it sent a pulse of energy through me, a little flame that started at my feet and wrapped me with mysterious empowerment.

I heard an owl in the distance. It would be soon. I let my mind wander again and brushed my finger thoughtfully around my lip and the mark. I marveled at how he had been able to leave her. Even his first utterances to her had suggested a profound togetherness, the kind of thing someone like Stephanie Meyer would have intended. But somehow, I was better for him. I felt a tingle between my shoulder blades as I massaged the mark a bit more. The electricity began to rush across my back and my skin began to glow. The fire worked its way into my closed wings, pushing them further and further apart until their full color was revealed in the moonlight, pure white and silver with gold flecks that shimmered with every movement. The fire inside began to crackle as I stretched them out, accenting a wave of euphoria. Crack...Cr-rack…Crack…Crack…Crack…Tap…Tap…Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

In an instant, I was at the keyboard again. My wingless back was covered in a sticky sweat that glued my cloak to my body; my ordinary gray eyes glanced hopelessly at the reflection in the computer screen. I put down my butterbeer and sighed. I was a squib, and that's all I would ever be.