Clack. Clack. Clack.

The keyboard made quick, annoyed sounds as a girl urgently typed on it. Sighing for what seemed like to 10th time, frustrated, she shut the laptop with a slam and leaned back on her chair, her hands on her eyes as she groaned and muttered something like, "I should have thought of the storyline before actually writing". She decided to go on her phone and see if her friend was online.

This was Emily Darkwood. She had delicate green eyes that glowed when she smiled, with a pair of thick, gold-rimmed glasses; on top of them a wad of curly, short black hair, with curtain bangs that were messy quite often covering parts of her face. She had a button nose and soft lips that were often smothered in cherry lip gloss. Her ears were a bit pointy at the edges, looking a little elfish.

Maybe my dad was right. I shouldn't have been a writer, I mean, I can't even think of a proper storyline! Shaking her head in self-anger, she forced herself to calm down and scrolled on Instagram for zodiac posts while waiting for Freya to reply. She bit her lip looking bored half staring at her phone, half daydreaming about her story. Of course, it had faeries, werewolves, vampires... all those kinds of hybrids. She loved fantasy stories and always thought her life was dull and boring and if not for writing or her best friend Freya, she would be painted in black and white as well, blending in with the rest of the world. She'd always been considered as standing out and different from others, but she didn't mind it. She was unique. Snapping out of her thoughts, she heard classical music playing (it was her ringtone) and knew it was a call from her friend.

"Hey! What's up Em?" A playful grin was plastered on Freya's face. She was a brunette with curls and blonde dyed at the ends. She had freckles on her face and a slightly pointy nose with delicate lips. "Nothing much, struggling with writing." Emily gave an awkward little chuckle and positioned her phone on her water bottle so she could continue writing while seeing and chatting with Freya.

"Heh, as expected," Freya smirked while pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I come over?" Emily looked around at her apartment and shrugged, "Sure, why not. It's boring as hell here." Freya chuckled and hung up, saying she was coming over now. Emily decided to take a break from writing and went to her room lying on her bed, staring up at the fairy lights on the ceiling.

Vampires, witches, faeries, werewolves, magic... they were all fantasies, made up to entertain people, to tell fables, to tell stories, right? Were they real? Were they true? Did they... exist in another galaxy or dimension, and the stories were just records to keep track of the experiences faced by the characters? Did magic exist? Did it work? Did anything that was supposed to stay in stories... were they true and real and honest? Was everything just a lie, that they. Were. Real? Emily's head was filled with thoughts like those and was startled by the sound of her doorbell. She jumped and her glasses fell out of place. Hastily pushing them back up while walking to the door, she shook her head clearing it of random thoughts, and smiled as she met her friend. After finishing small talk, they went to her room to hang out.

Suddenly, Emily felt a sudden urge of her magical thoughts returning, fantasizing about her dull life as an interesting adventure, and on impulse, she asked her friend, "Hey Freya, do you think magic exists?" Freya paused for a moment, then flopped on the bed so both of them were side by side gazing at the fairy lights on the ceiling. Putting her hands underneath her head as a cushion, she softly replied, "Why would you ask that?" She asked, her voice hinted with curiosity.

Playing with a crystal on her necklace, she answered, "I don't know, I've always wondered that." She stopped when she felt Freya's hand on hers, holding it tightly as she spoke, her words like honey, so sweet and comforting; her words like music, soft but melodious; her words like magic, answering her with just the right amount of genuine sweetness.

"I think... I think magic could be real. Friendship is magic, love is magic, and anything can be if you believe in it. Maybe they were true stories of bravery, characters going through everything to save a loved one, to save their pride, to search for something, to discover, to learn, to experience... anything can be a magical story, even if only you think of it as one. We all have our own differences, we are all unique and magical, and beautiful in our own way. Maybe your definition of magic is different, but this is what I think magic is." Freya answered, a smile on her face as she spoke her words.

Emily relished her answer, sinking and savouring every word of her into her heart. Those words, that were worth remembering forever, she would store them in her heart, pass the words on and on... and it will never be forgotten. Sitting up and leaning against the bed, she smiled at Freya and said, "What you said... it was perfect. Thanks." Freya gave her a thumbs-up sign, and said, "What should we do?" She looked into her bag and did a facepalm. "I forgot my sketchpad! I had some character designs on them, I'll go get them, alright?" Without waiting for her reply, she gave Emily a quick hug and left the room, and quickly left the apartment to go and get what she needed.

Emily waited for her friend to return, thinking about her philosophy of magic. Books, stories... they all seemed true to her. Too real, in fact, that sometimes it frightened her of what secrets the big world can hold. Suddenly, her green crystal glowed, as if alerting her to something. Confused, she looked at it and looked around, but nothing was there. As if there was an invisible force, something made her body stand up and walk toward her closet. Straining to get away, she failed and let the air carry her. It was gentle but firm, as if something, or someone was holding her gently and guiding her towards her closet, wanting to show her something,somewhere that she yearned to seek, to know, to travel to.

Her closet automatically opened by itself and instead of seeing her colorful assortment of clothes, she saw a white, glowing light shaped like a door at the end of it. Curious, she ran towards it and saw a beautiful landscape there. Without warning, the invisible force kicked her in and she fell, having nothing to hold onto. She screamed, her voice echoing around the empty land, as she fell, and fell, and fell... and everything around her went black.

In her room, the closet closed, inside were her clothes, her room, her apartment was messy as ever, as if nothing had happened.