The Guy Who Stalked Me- A Partially True, Partially Insane Love Story

Chapter One-No, Seriously, This Guy Really Is Stalking Me



AN-Heh. Another story that I start and may not finish. I'll just write it as it comes along, ne? Well, enjoy this odd little thing I wrote! ~tigerofthewind~





It started back when Mom gave me a job at her store, selling antiques and other such useless things that constantly leave me in a state of wondering as to who would buy such pointless things just to look at them and say they own them. Kind of like having a significant other---the only reason you go around telling everyone that you're dating is just so they know. It's not because you're trying to spread the joy---as a matter of fact, most people more often than not will hate you for having happiness while they don't--- but just because you want to be able to say:'Ha ha, ha ha, I've got one and you don't.'

But I'm digressing. The point is, I make three bucks an hour at this lousy store, which amounts to around a measly 90$ a week. Not so bad for a 16-year old high school student who's only expenses are her books, her art and drama materials, and the upcoming driver's ed that she is oh-so- dreading taking. Also not so bad considering that I do nothing at this job but sit around on my nonexistent ass(I inheirited that from my mother, by the way) and read all day, waiting for customers to come in.

It was summer vacation, only a week or so before school started. I'd been putting away some planters out on the porch when this guy came into the store. I was pretty shocked, because although he looked to be older than me, usually only the elderly or housewives with no lives come into our store.

He was kinda cute, I guess, in a gangly, stork-ish kind of way. Arms, legs, fingers, feet, and torso looking oddly stretched out, but appropriate for a guy his age. Shaggy brown hair in desperate need of a cut. Brown eyes that looked a bit near-sighted(upon closer inspection, I would later see the rims of his contacts in his eyes). Didn't go to my school, I didn't think. Maybe he went to the community college.

"Can I help you, sir?"I asked politely, as per my custom. Even if the old wench had spit in your face and stole your purse as soon as she walked in the door, you were still supposed to ask her that question as politely as you could muster. Myself, I would ask that question as politely as I could muster while shamelessly beating her into submission. Courtesy my ass. The elderly aren't as meek and docile as they appear, I'll tell you that right now.

Take my neighbors, for example. They're elderly. They hate cats. Upon seeing my cat crossing over into their yard on only three separate occasions, the next time he crossed over they left him poison hidden in a dish of cat food. I never saw Road Rash again. Pah! Respect your elders! What about having your elders respect YOU?

Mfft. Society blows. I've learned that the hard way, being the unfortunate kid whom everyone in school seems to enjoy tormenting endlessly in order to make up for the pathetic expanse that they have the nerve to call their lives. Whether it's pulling a nasty prank on me(the dead fish in my locker was the biggest one, I think) or whispering things about me when they think I'm not looking, it's all the same. Hey, it's okay. I take it in stride. Just don't try to pull any funny business with me, or you'll find yourself staring up at the ceiling flat on your back before you knew what hit you.

Anyway, I'm digressing. The point is, there was this guy. And after I asked him for help, he just shook his head and said 'No, thank you' and went about perusing the antiques. Two old ladies who looked old enough to be antiques themselves sniffed loudly in disapproval, as though young people shouldn't be allowed to come and go as they please, let alone somewhere where only CIVILIZED people went.

Our store's cat, Fenton(named after a popular brand of glassware, I think), hopped up in my lap and began purring loudly. I like Fenton. He's mistreated and cantankerous, much like me. We both spit and claw and bite. And we generally hate people. As it went, Fenton only really liked me. Cats aren't intellegent? Hah! Smarter than some people, I'll wager. And our dogs at home know how to open the doors.

As I was idly petting Fenton and using the store's computer to work on my webpage, I saw that someone new had signed my guestbook. Their name was GermyAtkins, and they left quite a nice message about my page. It read:

'Hey Aydriostar(me, by the way), no inhibitions about saying that your page rocks ass! I like the "Weekly Column For Those With Deterorating Sanity". Reminds me of me, heh. I'll check back every now and then to see if you've updated anything! Scats! ~Germy'

I wondered if "scats!" was some new way of saying goodbye. I guess, what the hell do I know? I also wondered who was germy(aka 'infectious' or 'contagious') and if they had given it to some poor unsuspecting family called Atkins.

My name's Aydrianne, by the way. Aydrianne Callostar. I know, my name's not exactly original. But hell, when you spend all your time working on an Internet site, a webzine, and my weekly columns, you don't really have time to be creative, dammit.

Some other guy had left a message.

'Aydriostar, this page is as @#$%ed up and as bitchy as you are! Shoulda known! ---Lords'

Ah, my sworn enemy. Jeremy Lords. Otherwise known as the walking, talking, asshole. Well---I deleted the message---no more of that. The sound of something clattering to the floor and breaking caught my attention, and Fenton leaped off my lap, leaving a lovely little procession of claw marks all over my thighs.

Damnable cat.

"You break it, you bought it,"I called, barely taking my eyes off from where I was editing a spot of my page that I had missed formatting into HTML. Sure enough, a few minutes later, there was a plunking and a shinking noise in front of me, and I looked up to see the college guy standing there with the remnants of Mom's favorite mirror. The 150$ mirror, more accurately.

I was about to tell him to forget about it, but then I remembered what exactly the mirror was made of(silver, crystal, and well, mirror) and how much it was worth. Rather reluctantly(and feeling like a cheap-ass while I did so), I took his 150 bucks and mumbled an apology under my breath.

"Sorry, but it was kinda expensive and I can't---"I began, but he cut me off.

"It's okay,"he said cheerfully, and willingly handed over the small fortune."It was a nice mirror, and if I wasn't such an ungraceful ox you'd still have it. At least this way, you might have a chance of buying another one."

Fat chance; there were only a thousand of those made in the world. But I didn't tell him that."Well, is that all?"I asked, glancing around the shop for emphasis. The guy suddenly turned red and looked down at the ground as I'd noticed his contacts for the first time, and was peering intently into his eyes. I jumped a bit, too.

"No, that's it,"he said, and positively dashed out of the store, leaving the broken mirror sitting on the counter and the old ladies near the door looking somehow as though they'd been violated.

I didn't think of him again until the next day, when he came into the shop again. But this time, he hid behind the shelves and hung around for nearly half the day before finally deciding to leave. I waved as he walked out; he got so flustered that he bashed his head on the door.

It kept up for the longest time, so long that I wondered if maybe I should call the cops or something. I mean, it wasn't like he was threatening my well-being, it was just decidingly creepy. Still, I had other things to worry about.

I was walking down the halls of my crappy, crappy school, when someone stuck their foot out and tripped me. My books went flying, I went flying. It was not a pleasant ordeal. If God had meant for man to fly, then he would have given them wings. Seeing as how I had none, I landed in an ungainly heap with my papers and notebooks all around me. And in the mood to kick some serious ass.

So I did. I mean, the oafish jock who'd been standing there with his foot stuck out and doubled over laughing really signed his own death sentence with that. I slapped him, and the administration slapped me with a suspension. Grrr. Then again, the school hates me, so they were probably just waiting for the chance to jump me on that one. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if they'd paid him to do it.

As it went, I was in a pretty spiteful mood when I arrived at work that day. I stormed into work, nearly kicking the door off it's ancient, broken hinges as I did so. We really need a new door.

The old ladies(sheez, they NEVER leave, do they?!) looked up from examining a porcealin vase in shock, nearly dropping the stupid thing. I would've liked it better if they did, that vase was worth 75$ on the market, and counting. I wondered why God would make such nice guys like that college guy drop and break our things, but those screaming old hags could handle everything with precision and care.

Speaking of the nice college guy, he was back again. I was seriously starting to wonder about him. I mean, was he just suffering from the all- too-common case of not having a life, or was it something more than that? More than ever, lately, I'd see him following me around into the separate rooms of the store, while I put things back on the shelves or turned on a few of the lamps in the back for light.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of the desperate lack of food it had suffered this day. I was cramming for a huge test in Calculus in the library, and I inadvertantly missed my lunch period. I hate it when I do that; I think the librarians should say something to you if you sit through all four lunch periods without moving. I mean, you might be a narcoleptic or something, or be having a weird immobile form of seizure. Mfft. Our librarians don't care, anyway.

But back to the present. I needed food. Muttering something incomprehensible to the old ladies(I was going to start calling them the Gruesome Twosome, by the way) and the college guy, I headed back to the kitchen, where our odd-smelling office and the fridge dwelt.

Mmm, the office. The be-all and end-all, so to speak. There wasn't a whole lot back there, save the comp and our cash drawers and shit, but it was quiet and warm in the winter, when everything else in the store was freezing. It was a tiny room just off the kitchen, that I think used to be a storage room. I used it when the store was particularly loud, or for my lunch break. The door would lock from the inside, so I could keep unwanted noise, old ladies, and parental units out, while I worked on my webzine and pretended to eat my lunch.

"45-minute lunch break, Aydrianne...."my mother began, pushing some buttons on her stopwatch,"starting....NOW!"

Erm. I think my mother has problems. As I walked back to the office, I thought about the weirdo college guy and the brief encounters I'd had with him so far.

There was the first time he came into the store nearly a month ago, before school even started. He'd broke the mirror then, and all went downhill from there. I mean, he'd been open and friendly and shit the first day, but after that, it was like some South Pacific cannibals had suddenly cut out his tongue.

I mean, I HOPED that wasn't the case, as it had been once before. This war veteran guy who'd had his tongue cut out in the East came into the store, and when he didn't say anything to me when I asked him if he wanted a bag for his stuff, I actually started yelling at him pretty badly. Then he opened his mouth real wide, and.......... OH, ICK! I didn't speak a word for a week, convinced that some islanders were hiding around in disguise, waiting to cut MY tongue out.

But that's not the point. The point is, this college guy kept following me around like he WANTED to talk to me, then when I turned around and tried to make conversation, he would disappear! I mean, I know I wasn't IMAGINING him, because Mom had seen him, too. She'd asked me about him, if he was a friend of mine. I said no, he was just some guy who came into the store a lot because he liked antiques. Mom had liked that answer, heh.

Although, I still couldn't figure it out. Why come into the store and never buy anything, except for those few power-walker people who come in whenever it starts raining to seek shelter? Oh, and the Gruesome Twosome, but at least they PRETEND to look at stuff. The college guy just skulks around like he's casing the joint.

Oh, no! What if that really was the case?! What if he was looking around and getting a feel of our store so he could rob us?! What if he was one of those international thieves who had fifty names and could change their appearances on a whim?! One of THOSE guys, coming to rob US?!

Wait. Heh, now that I think on it, the idea is pretty ridiculous. When they could be terrorizing Fort Knox, they'd instead be pulling off a whopping 200$ heist at the Unique Antiques and Collectibles store in crappy ol' Riverside. Pah. The very IDEA made me laugh. But he could just be a conventional robber, who only needed a little bit of money to pay off his dope dealer.

Well, I don't think that was the case, either. Maybe he was just some lonely dude who liked the quiet little country-ish feel of our store, and could just stand in a corner and stare at something and think, without getting kicked out, like you would at the anime store down the street, or McDonalds. I had been officially banned from both those places, and I was pining for them terribly. The truth is, I actually lost A LOT of weight because I'd been kicked out of Mickey D's.

Yeah, that's right. I was fat. I mean like.........UBER fat. There was nothing wrong with it, except the health risks, that is. From my freshman year to my juinor year, I totaled up around 250 lbs., too much for anyone seeking popularity at Riverside High. You guessed it. I'm not popular at all. I suppose I might have been, if I hadn't been so fat. But thinking on it, I wouldn't want to be any other way.

I'm popular amongst the unpopular kids, in a sense. By the science club kids and the gaming freaks, I've been voted the most desireable-yet- obtainable girl in the school. Obtainable? Pah! I was born hating people, and I'll die hating people. High school boys are so immature, anyway. They don't know WHAT the hell it is they want until they get stuck with something they don't, and by the time that happens, they're too old to do anything about it. That's my theory, at any rate.

But am I exceptionally beautiful? Not at all. I'm the epitome of the nerdy-girl type pretty, with the stylish-yet-stereotypical glasses, dark eyes that are almost black, and black hair. Pale as a fucking corpse, I never seem to tan no matter what I do. I don't think I'd look right with a tan, anyway. I usually wear my hair put up in one of those claw-clips, or in a braid wound around my head like a bun. I never wear my hair down, because it would only make it more subject to pulls, and gum disposing.

My traditional outfit is those baggy cargo jeans with the billion pockets that I can store my stink bombs and laser pointers and such in, and my shirts vary. I like the camoflauge tank tops, but lately I've been prone to wear a spaghetti strap sundress over a pair of flared black dress pants, so the combined effect is rather bizarre. I don't care who you are, I ain't showing you my legs.

Well, now that I've digressed into a babbling idiot, let's move on with what's going on NOW, shall we? Today I was pulling one of those sundress- pants things, with my hair braided in that creepy Princess-Leia-from-Star- Wars style. The sci-fi freaks had been drooling over me for hours, I actually had space to ram my chocolate cupcake down some guy's throat, so massively was he gaping at me.

Muttering incomprehensibly even to myself, I grabbed my foot-long hoagie(yum!) from the fridge, along with my Diet Coke, and headed back to the office. I had just been about to close the door and lock it behind me, when it swung shut of it's own accord and the college guy stepped out from behind it.

I nearly dropped my hoagie, and that would've just plain pissed me off. I mean, here I am, sitting and trying to enjoy a delicious hoagie from WaWa, and some dude appears out of the shadows like them damn boats in that TV miniseries thing, The Mists of Avalon.

"The store front's that way,"I said, pointed, and dropped down into my swivel chair, signing on to AoL. To my most utter surprise, the guy ignored me. And as per his custom, he seemed to be on the verge of saying something.

Mmmm, another signed thing in my guestbook. Oh, crap. It was from Lords, again. Stupid fuck. Doesn't he realize that no one(least of all me) gives a crap as to what he has to say?

'Aydriostar, what's this shit about deleting my message?! Fucked-up ho! And Brandon tripping you in the hallway today was ASS-KICKIN'! It was worth the bitch slap, he said. Heh, you're the biggest bitch we know, so it must've been a helluva a SLAP! Take down this stupid-ass page, or I'll rip it down!!! Ha ha ha!-Lords'

I wondered. Also, I would have liked to see him try to physically rip down a Web page. Some people are stupid like that. As for Brandon? May he roast in hell.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to say,"I heard the college guy speak up behind me suddenly, and I squeaked and fell out of my chair, because I had been tipping backwards on it."Oh, man! Aydrianne, you alright?!"

Shaking my head in a most disorienteted manner, I sat up."Yeah, nothin's broken."Scowling, I rounded on him."Sheez, man, what the hell's your problem?! You're not even supposed to be back here, and now you're popping up out of corners and terrorizing me?! What gives?!"

He looked so sad and unbelieveably sorry that I wanted to take back my words right away. And that's the first time I've ever regretted anything I've said. But I didn't say anything. It just wasn't my nature. And again, to my ultimate surprise, the guy neither apologized nor headed for the door. Instead, he continued to stare at me with those intense eyes, leaning up rather casually on the computer desk.

Clearing my throat, I hurriedly deleted Lords' message and checked out some of the other ones.

'Erm, I'm not quite sure what to make of this page. Sounds like you've got a lot of anger.'-HoppinIt45

'Whee, such insanity! I love it!*pets cactus* Keep going, you know how us crazy freaks are!'-ThatChickYourParentsWarnedYouAbout

'I can't say I find all of the material on your site worthwhile, but it is a very well done page. You've put a lot of work into it.'-MariaCsTomas

I knew the second one, my best friend Brie. Since we both had retardedly absurd names(well, at least mine was spelled in a retardedly absurd fashion), we'd been best friends since middle school. Brie was your typical Goth-princess-warrior, with that violently-dyed-red short hair, and dark eyes. She wore black a lot, but not all the time. Most of her stuff had safety pins tacked all into it, before the school board made her remove them when she stabbed a few people in her tenth-grade Bio class with them for making fun of the new foreign exchange student.

Brie likes violence almost as much as I do, but most of her violence has a cause behind it, some sort of injustice. I just hit people because they piss me off. Like today.

I had almost logged out of the guestbook and finish working on my newest update of the "Weekly Column for Those With Deteorating Sanity" when I spied the earliest of the new guestbook entries, on the page before the rest of them so I almost missed it.

'Adryiostar! It's awesome to see that you've kept on updating! Even though it embarrasses me to admit it, a lot of times I'll log on the comp every day just to see the new things you've posted... You've got real talent as a web designer! Ever consider making it your career?'-GermyAtkins

I will admit it, something inside of me flip-flopped over in this horrid wrenching motion when I read that. It wasn't a sickening sort of dread, it was a sickening sort of joy. Having never had anything that really moved me in any way, it was quite disturbing when something finally did. Most out of character with myself, I sent an E-mail back to Germy, thanking him oh-so- politely for his wonderful, wonderful message.

"Internet crush, hunh?"I heard the college guy ask behind me, and I shut off the computer monitor with an audible click, thoroughly irritated with this college guy's habit of reading over my shoulder. I mean, he was normally so...I don't know, not irritating. But today proved the exception with which hell froze over, and now Satan himself was throwing snowballs in my head.

"NO,"I answered testily, swiveling around in my chair to face him, crossing my arms over my chest."He's just some guy who checks out my page a lot. What's it to you, anyway?"

Aha! I had him there. But his intense expression never faltered a bit."I know him,"he said, then cleared his throat."That guy, I mean. He, ah---um, he really likes you. He's seen you a few times before, and, uh, just been too nervous to say anything."

Well, shit."Well, shit. Why can't people just say whatever's on their mind?"

The guy actually smiled."He said you had a habit of doing that almost a little too often."

Mweh heh heh. I was enjoying this. I mean, to find out some guy was completely and utterly INFATUATED with me? Hee, I could have fun with this."Yeah, he's got me pegged. So tell me, who is this incognito Romeo? I mean, do I get to meet him sometime in my immediate future?"

Hmmmm. A look of uncertainty had crossed the college guys' face."Um, I dunno. He, uh, he's really shy."

"Mmm."I took a big bite out of my sub."You mean, he's ugly. I can tell the difference."Uh-oh. Was that a glimpse of ANGER I saw in the college guy's eyes? Ooh, maybe I went too far.

He proved me right."Does it matter?"he retorted icily, getting to his feet abruptly.

However, he hadn't counted on the overhang.

The floor of the office went at a sloping angle, probably about 45 degrees or so. The slope led from the back of the office, at a gradual incline, to the front of the office. Even so, the highest point in the room was still enough to make the college guy stoop.

Which he hadn't done when he stood up. The CRACK! that resounded when his head crashed against the ceiling could have been heard all the way to the high school. Screeching so high-pitched that it was nearly silent(most uncharacteristic of me, by the way), I wheeled my chair out of the way in horror as the guys' eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor, unconcious.

Panic seemed to have replaced all concious thought."Oh God, oh God, oh God! I've killed him, killed him, killed him, killed him......."

I went on like this for a few minutes, getting out of the chair and hopping from one foot to the other anxiously, my trademark when I'm nervous. Or, in this case, completely and utterly HORRIFIED. I was just wondering if I should go and get my mother, or try and dispose of the body, when the guy stirred.

"Ow.......crap.........."And he proceeded to let out a string of curses in his half-concious state that would have made a sailor recoil. Well, at least it snapped me back to reality. He wasn't dead! Dropping down to my knees and pulling his head into my lap, I did the only sensible thing I could think of at the moment:I grabbed my can of Diet Coke from the desk and poured it over his head.

WHAT I was hoping to accomplish by doing this, I have no idea. All I know is that it succeeded in doing SOMETHING; the college guy stirred again and this time fully opened his eyes."You're not dead!"

He winced at the intensity of my voice."Aydrianne.........wasn't it? Sorry to.....disappoint you......but you're right, I'm not dead."He gave his head a little half-shake."As soon as the birdies stop flying around my head, I'll........get back to you."

"Okay, okay."I waited patiently for a few minutes, then helped him to sit up."Are you alright? That crack sounded loud enough to split your skull."

He gave me a dry grin."Alright enough to remember you stereotyping someone because of their looks."

Damn. I was hoping he'd forget."But you know, I didn't mean it like that."I dug some ice out of the freezer that's kept in the back, and set about finding something to wrap it up in.

"Here,"came the guy's muffled voice, and he pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to me, whereupon I hurriedly wrapped the ice up in it and handed it back to him. Sitting on the floor in a rueful heap, he gestured to me with his free hand."'Didn't mean it like that'. Go on."

I shrugged."I meant it in the sense that most guys who are quote-unquote 'painfully shy' are usually butt-ass ugly. And,"I interjected before he could say anything,"you wanna know what? I-don't-give-a-shit. THAT is the truth."I settled back down again definitively, trying to eat my sub in large gulps, for my 45-minute lunch break was almost up.

Lunch break............. I suddenly remembered that the college guy had still not given his explanation for being here. After all, we'd even put a sign up on the office door that said 'No customers beyond this point, please' because of the old woman who was half-blind and led her Doberman back through here, thinking it was an exit. After becoming stuck in the office for an hour, and threatening to sue, her dog promptly took a shit on the box of new depression glass that we had gotten in the day before. After that, the sign was quickly designed and erected by me, in large 72-point font so even the elderly and seemingly retarded could read it.

"Heeeeeeeey,"I drawled, trying to ignore the wonderfully lean but not overly buff line of his bare chest,"why're you back here, anyway? Didn'cha read the sign?"

Again, that piercing stare, and a smile that sent a small chill down my spine."I saw it."

"Uh..........."I decided it wise not to ponder the subject. Instead, I decided to broach the friend-crush topic again."So, this friend of yours. How old is he? Like, is he your age? Wait, how old is that? Do I know him? What's he like?"

"Hey, one at a time."He held up his hands like a shield."He's my age. I'm a college sophmore, getting ready to turn twenty-one in January. You know him, trust me. And I told you, he's really shy. Not really a loud guy."

"Oh, well that's good."I was really getting into this."'Cuz, like, I talk all the time, so............."I stopped and frowned; realized that I'd just sounded like Kristy Barnes, world's biggest ditzbomb. Oh, Lordy. This would have to stop. Me becoming all flabbergasted over a guy I'd never met."Ahem! Well, my lunch break's up. I've, uh---"

"AYDRIANNE!"Thank God for my mother.

College guy looked a bit put out."Alright."He clambored to his feet, still using his shirt as an ice pack."I'll talk to you later, Aydrianne."He looked to stumble and fall, but I got an arm under him.

"Phew! Looks like you're not too steady on your feet yet, hunh? I'll help ya."We started out again."Watch the 'hang, man."This time, he ducked his head.

"Aydrianne!"My mother gasped when she saw me."What did you do?!"

"Wha---"It 'twas then that I realized the rather insinuating situation I was in. My hair in a total dusty disarray from falling on the floor. My arm around a shirtless, dazed-looking college guy. What else would she have expected?"Woah, wait Mom! Like, he FELL, and......."

"It's true, Mrs. Callostar,"the guy interrupted me, stepping forward."The ceilings here are a little low. And, I'm a little slow. Not a good mix."

Well. He knew how to smooth things over with parental units. This was good. I'd have to get him to teach me. My mother(the queen of analness, by the way) actually LAUGHED."I'm sorry. You're not hurt, are you?"

He shook his head, and put his shirt back on, ignoring the large wet stain on the front."I'm all right. Araidne helped me out."

Eh? Araidne? I hoped the blackout hadn't ruined his intelligence COMPLETELY. No, it couldn't be. He and my mother sharing this..............LOOK? It was this knowing look, like a parental thing. Did they know something I didn't?! I'd have to find it out! And my mother laughed again.

The college guy was walking out the door. I went to run after him, and Mom pushed a lit book into my hands, open to some page. What the hell was she doing?! I almost shut it. Almost.

The guy was out on the bottom of the porch steps by the time I reached him."Hey!"Inadvertantly, I looked down to the short story Mom had opened the book to.

The Wooing of Araidne.

In a daze:"I didn't catch your name."

That mysterious smile again, the one that scared me and interested me all at once."I told you that you knew me."

He turned and walked away."Scats, Araidne,"said Jeremy Atkins.



AN~I'm sorry, the ending just makes me want to grin.*grins* So, everyone like? I mean, it was pretty obvious from the start what the hell was going on, but oh, well. By the way, The Wooing of Araidne is this funny little short story about this woman named Araidne, who has all these guys trying to impress her and get her hand in marriage. It doesn't work for any of them, until this one guy tries to impress her, gets pretty beaten up in the process, and says in this angry huff that the only reason he was trying to do all those things for her was because he loved her. Of course, Araidne then agrees to marry him. It's a really cute story. My point is, Araidne just kind of reminded me of Aydrianne(even the names are kinda similar). Now, there is one thing I wanted to ask:should there be more to this? I thought the ending kinda summed it up well, but if everyone wants me to continue, I will.*smile* Thanks to those who have reviewed(or will review, at least)!^_^ ~tigerofthewind~