You enter the profile page, and before you stands a girl of about 18, though she looks like she could be anywhere from 16 to 25, tall, with good posture. She's grinning like a fool, clenching a paper tightly in her hands, hazel eyes, partly obscured by ash brown hair, flicking from the lines to you. She's garbed in black corduroys, a crimson shirt with a single sparkly silver butterfly. It has zebra striped sleeves. You blink slowly.

"Hi! My name's Bryndah, and I'll be your tour guide for this evening- eveni..." The spunky girl, Bryndah, pauses mid word, faltering. She gives the paper in her hands a once over, frowns and lets it fall to the ground. "Heh, whoopsie! Wrong paper! Um... let's see here..." With a heavy sigh she digs through a stack of papers, tossing the wrong ones to the side with an air of abandon. You wait, puzzled. Finally she stands and gives a thumbs up. "Here we go!"

She runs a hand through her hair, which you notice has dark green and bright purple streaks in it, and takes a wide stance. "Hiya! M'name's Bryndah, and I am A) an aspiring writer majoring in Journalism, B) an ex-hopeless romantic that still loves the occasional chick flick, but would much rather have a good adventure story, a thriller, mystery, etc instead, and C) your authoress for this evening." She cracks her knuckles with a loud pop, bows deeply, and walks to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

"So, a little bit about me. I love reading, writing, being dramatic, video games, drawing, music, anime, those little chocolate chip muffins in the university cafeteria, sharks, giraffes, harpy eagles, hyenas, other cultures in general, Japan specifically, and doing good things. I am, as a friend once called me, a good cupcake. I grew up a sheltered life, but my parents never once tried to disillusion me, they always told me what was really going on, and for that, I am grateful. I'm a strong christian, and I firmly believe that not only is the Bible true, but that there is a war going on, a spiritual one, that affects our everyday lives in ways we can't even imagine. That affects the way I write and what I enjoy reading. I typically read a lot of teen books, even though I'm nineteen, just cause they have good plots with out pages of sex scenes. I mean really, look at the book stores. The signs say romance, but the covers of the books just scream 'pornos!' And what's more, it tells people that rampant sex, like with someone you met ten minutes ago is a-ok. Seriously. Is the human race doomed to follow the animalistic urges to mate with anything? Have people no control? Erg." She makes a face. "Sorry. Ranting again. Anyway... I love the fantasy/sci-fi genre because it's just that, a fantasy. Vampire lore really interests me, I love to randomly chat with people, and I hate people that are too wrapped up in their little pathetic lives in their little pathetic circles to step out and live."

She pauses, blinks, and her lips turn down in a frown. "Well, not hate. It just aggravates me when a person has so much potential, but blames their lack of success on their vices, fears, etc. I believe that if you really want to do something, attain a goal, you can do so." She smiles again, and you realize that she must be one of the eternal optimists, always thinking of reasons to be grateful that it isn't worse than it is. She continues. "My nicknames include 'B,' 'Brenna,' 'Captain Chinese Takeout,' 'Ninja,' and 'The Destroyer of Bugs.' Aaaaaaand that's me in a nutshell, emphasis on the nut. Any questions?" You're flabbergasted for a moment, blinking slowly at the information thrown at you like yesterday's trash. You scratch your cheek, give a laugh, and nod.

"Uh, yeah... Where are the stories?" She deflates, a bit bummed that you simply want to go straight to the stories, but understands. She points down. "There they are! Please enjoy, and please give me some feedback, ok? I really want to improve my writing! And who knows, one day you may even see my books in a book store. I really want to publish a book with my own cover art." She bows again, and with a poof of crimson smoke, disappears. Her voice echoes around the room. "And the momoraths outgrabe!" There is an eerily still quiet, and you quickly slide to the stories, wary of poofy spunk people.