Character Bio

Name: Claire
Age: 16
Appearance: Blond, Beautiful, Slim
Personality: introverted
Problem: Got no friend
Environment: Lives in a dorm
Special quality: Knows Karate

Claire was a quiet girl, who liked to read books. Every day, she would be immersed in a book, sitting in her seat by the window. She wasn’t exactly an outgoing type of person; more than half of her class had never spoken to her. Nobody had heard her speak, unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when a teacher asked her a question, she would bow her head down and whisper a hardly audible “I don’t know, sir,” blushing furiously.
She wasn’t exactly a kind of person that leaves an impression on you. And as a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have even remembered her at all if it weren’t for her stunningly blond hair, almond shaped eyes, delicate nose, and her long and elegant limbs. Even though she never wore any make up and usually kept herb long hair down covering more than half of her face, her aesthetic qualities seemed to shine through. She was the center of the attention wherever she went, turning heads as she walked to her classes.
Although we boys worshipped her like an idol, the girls seemed to have a different opinion about her. They would always find something mean to say to her whether it was true or false, and jeer and make snide comments at Claire as she passed by. Everyone knew for a fact that she had never committed or was even capable of doing any of the actions that she was accused of, but out of jealousy and spite, the rumors spread through the schools like wildfire, finally causing Claire to burst into tears.
After that unfortunate incident, Claire dropped out of school. Nobody knew where she went. Some said that she ran away with a married man who was more than twice her age, and some said that she had hooked up with a very rich businessman and was living in Dubai on a private island. So it came as quite a shock when I saw her on the local TV news under the headline: “Beautiful bank clerk singlehandedly takes down four armed professional bank robbers with her deadly karate chop”

It's Hell Living Without a Hero

On a fine summer day, an old man sat alone at the porch.
He was a very strange fellow, this old man. His grey hairs, deep wrinkles and shriveled hands were the only clues to his age, for as far as the townspeople were concerned the old man had been, always, grey, wrinkled, and old. On a closer inspection, one could discern a faint trace of once handsome chin, shrewd eyes, and a tall stature. However, everyone referred to him as ‘that crazy old man’
His unfortunate disposition failed to improve his reputation. He was often loud, shouting out insults towards his neighbors. He never seemed to enjoy a company of another living thing. People assumed this based on their few encounters with the old man: when the townspeople greeted him with a courteous “It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree?” he would answer in silence, showing an obscene gesture with his middle finger and deeply affront the innocent people passing by.
No one could tell why the old man was so angry all the time, but there was no doubt that something was seriously bothering him. He would bark at songbirds singing in trees, growl at a dog playfully chasing its tail, and scorn at the children’s laughter carrying through the kitchen window. Fresh green blades of grass or the white petals of daisies did not seem to please him; on the contrary he seemed to devote a major portion of his time trying to remove these specimens from the soils of his small barren garden.
But isolation didn’t seem to satisfy him either. Although he was surrounded by the stillness of a warm Thursday morning at this moment, he neither seemed to be pleased nor relieved at this result. On the contrary, the lack of movement around him seemed to deepen his sorrows even more.
He did nothing but sit there in absolute silence, and someone might have mistaken him for a corpse, were it not for his shrewd eyes darting restlessly.
No one knew the truth about this old man. No one knew that this 'crazy old man' was very famous when he was young. No one even considered the possibility that he might have had a life before he became so old.
This old man had been capable of many great things. With his charms and talent, along with unfathomable amount of hard work, he gathered money and power. His brilliance had also allowed him to come up with many ingenious plans to conquer the universe – although he had never succeeded. Each time, at the last moment, when all the pieces of his plan seemed to be falling perfectly into place, an anomaly would occur. An anomaly in the name of -
The old man blinked. It was no use to brood in the past though. What was done was done. It was only when he had accidentally succeeded in deleting the ‘anomaly’, did he realize that the world without him – it, he corrected – seemed to have no value anymore.
“It’s hell living without a hero.” said the old man.
A gentle breeze brushed softly against his cheeks.

Dorothy's Silver Shoes

Dorothy’s heart was beating faster and faster. What did this all mean? Did this mean that Oz was once a mere man, the subject of these obscene actions? She eagerly turned to the next page with a pounding heart.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was lying in a room with a very high ceiling. I tried to stand up, thinking what day it was, but I simply couldn’t move my head – it was too heavy. After a few struggles, I succeeded in grabbing the bars on my cradle - cradle? Stunned, I looked around, and realized that I was somehow in the old nursery – not covered in dust or filled with huge boxes, but clean and neat as it was 20 years ago. I tried to yell, but instead of usual “What the f---!” some random babbling and gurgling came out of my mouth. Confused, I found myself suddenly overcome with emotions – I burst into tears. A woman – my Mother! – rushed to my side. She said, with a soft voice, “What’s wrong, honey?” She lifted me up, and carried me in her arms.

Dorothy couldn’t believe what she was reading on those pages. The Worker of Many Miracles, the Evergreen Sage, Preacher of Knowledge, had a mother. It couldn’t be true. It just wasn’t possible. She kept on reading. The following entries of his journals were even more shocking.

I had become a baby! The cold truth hit me hard. I did say that I wanted to become young again, but not this young! My mom was now changing my diapers and it truly felt strange. But I didn’t have time to think about diapers. What am I supposed to do in this kind of situation? In the movies, usually toys come alive or animals speak, but no such thing seemed at hand. I pinched myself to make sure that it wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t. I had to accept the reality and find real solutions.
How could there be a real solution when I was nothing but a baby? But then, I realized something: while my body was in my infancy, my consciousness was no different from that of my 21-year-old self. With the accumulated knowledge that I already had inside myself, I would be a prodigy!

The journal went on for quite a few more pages. It recorded his footsteps of reliving his life as a man inside a baby. With his knowledge of future stock market movements and scientific discoveries, he acclaimed money, fame and power. He had even formed a cult – worshippers and followers from all over the world admiring his riches and knowledge.

It was at this moment that I finally understood the strength of the power that I possessed; knowing the unknowable, I had the upper hand against any person living on earth! No talent a man can possess could compare to the ability to read “the flow” of a society, and in my case, I not only read them, but had actually lived through it! My comparatively younger age and complexion did nothing to hinder my fame but rather sensationalize it as my 11-year-old self foresaw the tragedy of 9/11 and the series of misfortunes that followed. To them, I was God.

The journal slipped from her hands. The sound of the journal falling echoed throughout the empty hall. Dorothy was disgusted. The sheer intensity of his greed and pride was sickening to read. Oh, what horror it was, to read about the blasphemous thoughts of the one whom she had admired so much through Oz’s own writings!

“Come on, Toto, we have to go.”

Dorothy picked up the book and put it back on the pedestal. Dorothy felt as if her entire world was crumbling into pieces. As a devout believer of the Emerald City and its teachings, she had grown up dreaming only about the moment she would be able to become a member of the Green Curtains. She felt betrayed. What was she going to tell Wood, Leo and Quinn? They were all counting on her. She had dragged them into this whole fraud, this whole scam.

Wood, Leo and Quinn were all waiting for her at the other side of the door.

“So what did Oz say?”
“Did you tell him something about my heart?”
“What about my tumor?”

She saw them looking at her with expectant eyes. She could see the hope shining in their eyes. Their eyes were like those of an innocent toddler, looking up expecting for their mothers to shower them with shiny new toys.
Forcing herself to smile, she took a hairpin from her hair and gave it to Quinn.

“Oz told me to give me this to you. He said that he enchanted this with his healing powers. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Turning to Wood, she gave him her heart shaped gold necklace.

“This is for you, Wood. May your heart be filled with love while you’re wearing it - another present from Oz.”

Finally, she took out the little bottle of water she had found in the library.

“And for you, Leo, this is a bottle of courage. Nothing will stop you from doing what you want anymore.”
“But what about you? What did you get from Oz? Did he say that you’ll be able to go back home?” said Leo, who had always cared so much for Dorothy.

Dorothy smiled and said, “Yes he did, don’t worry, Leo. Take Toto and everyone with you and go down the tower. I’ll follow you in a moment. I just have a few more words I’d like to say with Oz.”

While he was going down the stairs, Leo changed his mind. “I’ll wait for Dorothy outside the door. Meet us at the Green Gate.”

Thinking about the best way to propose to Dorothy, he fondled the toy diamond ring in his pocket he had bought for 75 cents. When he felt his courage failing, he drank the entire bottle of courage in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous; he felt a hot sensation spreading through his body filling it up with courage.

When Leo had climbed up the tower again, there was only a pair of silver shoes below the windowsill, with an icy gust of North Wind blowing ruthlessly. Dorothy was nowhere to be seen.