Young Writers Society

I've always heard you could tell if someone's watching you. I tried it once when I was a kid, but it didn't work. Anyways, the point is that apparently there were something wrong with my experiment back then, because I could tell someone was watching me.

I turn to see a woman with silver hair in a loose ponytail looking at me. She looks like someone out of a fantasy story I might read (I'm in love with the genre), and I feel out of place in my light denim shorts, scuffed sneakers, and black T-shirt. I regret my decision of not wearing my dragon necklace.

To my surprise, she has her hands in my bag. "What are you doing?" I question. "If you're trying to rob me, I'll call the police."

Blinking in surprise, she removed her hand, calmly dropping in the silver coin with the same symbol as her necklace. "Ah sorry, I lost my balance for a short while and while trying to regain my balance I accidentally stuffed my hand down your back. I'm Malamaya by the way." Malamaya lied easily, putting on a sheepish expression. Internally how ever, she smirked with pride. I managed to sneak that in there. I'm lucky that acting and lying is my strong point. Really, people believe what they want to at most times.

"I'm Mage," I say with a grin, casting a glance in the direction of my bag. Her hand had lingered briefly over it. I would have to check it subtly, in case she actually robbed me and was ready to bolt. "Sorry if my appearance is a bit frightening with the horns, fangs, and tail. I guess that's what happens when you decide to name yourself after a demon."

I open my notebook and intentionally press down hard on the tip. It breaks. Staring at it as if I'm surprised, I open my bag with the excuse of, "Just give me a second. I'm getting a pencil sharpener." I briefly dig through the bag before finding a coin. There's a familiar looking symbol on it. A glance up from the bag, and I see it's on Malamaya's necklace.

I withdraw the coin from my bag. "Why did you put this in there?"

Malamaya feigned a look of surprised before pretending to realize, "Oh, I had that in my hand before I accidentally stuffed it in." Opening up her hand she reached out to get it. "Thank you for returning it! So Mage, what are you working on?" She asks while taking a seat next to her. Hm, good job. Thing is I need to work on my agility... With a friendly smile she brings out a small black notebook and starts writing with a fountain pen. Foreign symbols quickly scrawled on the paper. Weh kee ra okh Al ya lel in English words... Satisfied, she then brought out a black spiral note book and started writing on it, hiding it from Mage's view. Keeping an ear out for what Mage has to say.

I smile. "You're welcome," I reply. I show Malamaya my notebook. "I'm trying to write down ideas for my story, The Automaton's Heart. I've written the first couple of chapters, but nothing more than that." After a brief pause, I add, "I didn't think it would be a good idea to bring my laptop after hearing the rumors about the last Tavern."

My gaze shifts to her notebook. "What are you writing about?"

Malamaya shyly smiled back, "I'm writing down some mythology from the Philippines." She gestured, the pages filled with descriptions of monsters and creatures. "It's for a series me and my cousin are doing. But because of time zone issues we've been doing slow progress." I need to keep an eye out, she might be faking this openness. Flipping a page she continued writing in it, if one looked oved her shoulder, one would see an in depth observation of the people she knew. Of course, it was in the same foreign symbols as before.

"That's neat!" I reply. I always get excited when I find out other people are writers. It's a lot easier to communicate with other writers because we have something in common. "I haven't cowritten a story before. Why do you write?"

Smiling happily at the subject, she answered with enthusiasm. "I love writing because, it's just like there's no bounds, and unlike drawing you can flesh out their character, see where the go, what they do, why they do it and they just evolve into people to me." She ended with a whisper, normally she wouldn't confess something like this but this person is a fellow writer, she'll understand. A small corner of Malamaya's heart, always wished for more people who can connect. She has a handful of people she can trust and most of the time she doesn't tell everything. "Ehehe, hope I didn't come of as too lonely there. Say, I still haven't got my milk tea..." Frowning, she reached into an unseen bag hidden by her cloak and got out a pouch full of strawberries. Getting one she offered some to Mage. "Here have some."

"Thanks!" I say, grabbing a small handful. A smile spreads across my face as I eat one. They're juicy, big, and delicious; just what I look for in a strawberry. "They're really good." I politely close my notebook. Since I'm talking to someone, it makes the most sense to focus my attention on her. "I love creating stories," I inform Malamaya. "That's why I write. Well, I guess it's also because I want to show people that everything will be alright when it doesn't seem that way."

Closing her notebook as well, she smiled back. Looking closely at Mage she asked, "Do you have any hidden weapons?" Malamaya had plenty on her, throwing knives, poisoned daggers, her pen can be counted as one. Malamya was truly paranoid, with knowledge of ways to dispatch her opponents/enemies.

"Um..." The question takes me by surprise; maybe Malamaya wasn't as normal as I had thought? It's times like these that I really question the sanity of us writers a whole...

I dig through my bag. Triumphantly, I pull out my spare pencil. "I could stab someone with this," I reply. "It would definitely hurt." Something I know from accidentally poking myself repeatedly while looking through my bag for said pencil. "And I guess if I broke my pencil sharpener in the right way, I could scratch someone with the blade." I was lucky enough to not have broken any pencil sharpeners, but it seemed like it would be annoying if I used it.

Humming curiously, Malamaya looked at the pencil and started twirling it in her skilled fingers, "It's good enough," she said, "Though you'll need more protection than a bloody piece of wood meant for writing. It would be a waste." Setting it down, she then reached for a pocket knife. "Here. It'll do you more service than a pencil." Note to self, teach Mage how to look intimidating in case of possibly being stolen from. Really nice and open she is, then again all fellow writers have some dort of strange quirk.. wonder what hers' is.

"Thanks?" I stare down at the pocket knife. If she was giving me one, didn't it mean she had at least one more underneath her cloak?

That was a worrisome realization. Sure, I could see having a pocket knife on my person in case someone tried to harm me. I had actually been thinking of getting one for that exact reason (also to make a Harry Potter wand, but that's an entirely different thing altogether). I had also been planning on watching some self defense videos on YouTube, but that has yet to happen.

"You're welcome, can never be too careful now." With a cheerful smile she then asked, "Do you play any instruments? If so then we can earn money by doing a duet of something." Malamaya said, she can tell that Mage was getting too uncomfortable, Must be because of the knife... Shaking her head Malamaya reminded herself, Not everyone is as paranoid as you, they might react wrongly because of the knife... Does she view me as a threat now? Frowning at her toughts, she bit into a strawberry and mulled over it with the delicious taste.

"I play the flute," I reply with a smile. Though my skills are far from exceptional, I enjoy playing it. It's entertaining, and there's something really neat about playing some of my favorite songs on it. "I used to be able to play the piano, but I've become incredibly rusty." I fall silent. Then, after I realize something, I quickly add, "I know it's not an instrument, but I can sing too!"

Though my reply seems normal enough, I'm still just a tad worried about Malamaya and her spare knives.