Just 'cause I'm cool like that, my profile has a bit of a story. It was done up October 08 so it's a little outdated, never did do that NaNo and I'm seventeen now, but at the moment I'm crossing my fingers to see if I was good enough for the Claremont Review. I'm fairly certain I didn't make it though I can't stop hoping. Anyways I'll see. I'm gonna try to get some new stuff done up soon when I'm not busy with theater. We're doing Bang, Bang, You're Dead for the provincial high school festival, I play the Mom and some minor characters. If you haven't heard of the play go wiki it now. Then you can purse your lips and nod if you've seen any of my writing because it's right up my alley. (lol)

EDIT: It's now Summer '09 and I am job-less! -Gasp!- This is the first time in three years, so I have quite a bit of time on my hands. If I don't end up sleeping it away I might even start a new story. Bang, Bang, You're Dead is finished and we took best Tech and Outstanding Male Lead (GO ZANDER!), next up is a musical coming in September and, god help me, I am going to be -drum roll- THE STAGE MANAGER! Eep! No, seriously I'm loving it so wish me luck!

7/10/09 - I has LJ. = rae-simmons = . And coming September '09 I am redoing my profile for my Grad year. Grad 2010, woot.

-page break, I hate you-

You find yourself in a small dark theater. Suddenly you hear the clank of a stage light as it turns on, illuminating the stage floor with a thin beam full of sparkling dust motes. A girl of average height with short light brown hair jumps into the light with a thump. Her hair is styled so that it flips outwards and long bangs shadow her eyes. Blowing upwards and shaking her head several times she tries to move them but she quickly gives up to push them aside with her hands.

"Hi!" she says smiling, "I'm user six hundred and twenty thousand, pleased to meet you! Now that we've met you can call me Rae. I'm sixteen and I was on FanFic first but I'm really looking forward to having an output for my original poetry. Also possibly my first NaNoWriMo, if I can come up with something that is."

She is very animated as she speaks, waving her hands about and making faces, "My favourite fandom is LotR because I don't like writing or reading fanfiction about a book if there is a possibility that the original author will add more to the characters. That can't happen with LotR though because the great Mr. Tolkien is dead, and all his children can do is sort through the pages. My fave character is Aragorn, he makes me go squee!" At this point she starts jumping and spinning around madly whilst squealing and you start to back away.

"Awww," she whispers sadly stopping immediately and staring straight at you, "Don't go just yet. Have a look around first."

You know for a fact that you're standing in the shadows and it's starting to freak you out how she's looking right at you like you were both in the bright light. Looking around you see the room behind you morph into a long hallway with many doors. Each is different from the others, some are skinny while some broad; some have windows and others are locked; many of the doors are brilliantly coloured but there are also those in tones of gray or sepia.

You look back toward the stage and the girl is fading too. Like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland she disappears bit by bit. First her shoes then her legs until all that are left is a pair of sharp green eyes, then those also are gone in but the blink of an eye. You close your eyes and rub the bridge of your nose. This is all getting to be a bit too much.

When you open your eyes again you see your salvation, a huge set of double doors made of a dark cherry wood elegantly carved to resemble a forest scene. Directly above is a large neon sign with the word 'EXIT' on it. The doors are cracked open a sliver and warm sunlight pours through shining off the twisted gold handle turned slightly down. Now the choice is yours, do you leave? Or, do you brave the unknown and look around?

Walking toward the door to the left, you find yourself drawn, enchanted by the shiny gold paint. Reaching your hand out to stroke it, you suddenly pull back. The door, it... it shocked you. You stare at your finger tips to discover the gold paint, stuck to your now clammy palms in flakes. You look up at the door again and see a sign. Curious, you wipe away the gold paint to reveal a rotting red door. Reading the sign you wipe your hands distractedly to remove the gunk. The sign says, "Blood on the Leaves: a tragic ballad" in a harsh and hasty script. You lift your hand to your face in surprise. A bitter metallic scent wafts in your nose, hold the phone! That's not red paint on the door...!

You glance at the door beside you, it is tall and made mostly of glass with only a thin frame of white washed oak. The handle is gold and it glows faintly. On the other side of the door there is a gauzy lace curtain, in front of which hangs a suction-cup sign tied with a white ribbon on ornate gold trimmed paper. It reads "Angels and China Faces: A story of love lost" in loopy calligraphy. It is all up to you now, will you enter?