Entry #1

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I. What does your character look like? Make a list and include the following: hair, eyes, height, weight, build, etc.

Terreada
Age: Adult
Gender: Male
Height: 5'6
Weight: Average Weight
Build: Slightly stocky, usually hunched over
Species: Anthro Lupe
Occupation: Author / Professional "reseller

If there was ever someone whose hair told you everything about a person, it was Terreada.. The unruly, wild blue locks manage to find their way in almost all directions. His hair was almost always askew, lazily folding into soft and waves. They fell perfectly in disarray, carelessly curling over his brows and ears. The hair is a prime example of its owner's laziness.

It was only 10 o' clock.I glanced up impatiently at the clock. Or rather, a clock, considering the entire wall was full of the things. The entire room was silent, aside from the constant rattling of ticking clocks. I felt the shadows of the corners of the room creeping on closer and closer. They took on all strange shapes and forms, and almost seemed to have a life of their own. It's my mind playing games. I hear a slight creak and turn my head. Movement catches my eye, and next thing I know I'm stumbling out of my stupid chair, tripping and scrambling like a bumbling baby just about everywhere. In my moment of panic, I grab the nearest weapon (a pen) and hold it high above my head, like some psychopath. I realize I'm only looking at a haggard, paranoid guy holding a dumb pen above his head. He looks like myself. I creep on in, and touch the mirror. He touches the mirror too. You have got to get some help, I tell him. His eyes are wide, and look as if to say, -Yeah dude, I know.

bold italc underline link What does your character…
…fear? Phantoms
…dread? Awkward emotional situations (IE. Comforting someone)
…want? A best-seller
…want to avoid losing? The only two people close to him
…want to avoid gaining?
…love? Sleeping
…desire? To be like everyone else
…need? Money
…crave? Shmokes
…hate? Volatile, emotional people
…loathe? Bossy girls
…have a passion for? Writing

Asleep, your continues to toss and turn, haunted by his/her childhood nightmare. What scared him/her as a child?

Mom I whispered out in a soft voice. She didn't respond. Mother., I tried again. She grunted and turned over, her face obscured. As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I could see her brows creased in annoyance. What is it, Terreada? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep? she groaned out. They're back again, Mom., I pleaded softly. They say mean things to me and want to hurt me. Two shadowy, decaying hands crept up the bed. Go back to sleep, Terreada. It's too late. I froze, watching only the rotting hands inch their way up, grabbing my mother by the shoulders. But she doesn't notice, she never does. Mom please, you have to get up. They want to take you. Tears sting in my eyes, The hands are pulling her into the bed. She melts into the sheets, her body dissipating. I can only watch as she sinks further and further, until I can no longer see her. Hers, and a million voices resonate inside my head, until I can no longer bare it, and my eyes snap open.