"You look like my grandma." These heartless words were spoken seemingly without malice, but I froze nonetheless. The child, Kyle, who said this was barely older than my current body, and his innocent eyes showed only forthright honesty. You little shit, I thought as I fought the urge to take back the homemade vitamin I gave the kid. Couldn't I have been at least be seen as a motherly figure? Even a big sister would be preferable. Why a grandma?

I battled the desire to be petty and shook my head, "You're older than me!" I said hotly.

"But look at your clothes; they look like something my gran would wear." The boy said as he gestured to said clothing.

I looked down at the soft, pale yellow shawl I wore over a long pink sweater dress. I had spent six months painstakingly creating this outfit. The thick, rosy dress kept the bitter chill of winter from my skin. The soft shawl made my skin look warm and pretty.

My lips turned down as if I tasted something sour. "Well, your grandma has great taste," I said as I turned my nose up and swept away dramatically.

My brother was the only one to blame for this and any other hardship or insult I suffered in this world. Maybe, just maybe, my constant seeking of his attention created my entrance into this hell. But I'm just a kid! The two of us only have each other, and he sent me packing to another world to be free of me. Literally!

It all started eight months ago when I first burst into his study room. The door creaked and threatened to fall off the hinges, but I barely used any force. "Good morning, Gus!" I said to him with a chipper smile.

My brother's strong profile looked as regal as a statue as he slowly turned to look at me. His long black hair barely shifted as he moved. Gus is just so stiff that even gravity obeyed him and remained prim. His reading glasses gleamed at me in disapproval. Annoyance and disdain dripped off his dark, steely eyes as he peered at me. "You will fix that door," he stated, ignoring my greeting. Augustus, or Gus, as I lovingly called him, turned his attention back to his paperwork. The scraping sound of quill and ink didn't stop even with my presence. His cold aura around him would usually dissuade me from communicating with him. I was fed up with letting this attitude control me. Grandma left, and now I had no one to talk to.

So, with a jut of my chin, I ignored his frosty words and cheerfully said, "Gus, look at these!" I dropped a handful of books onto his desk. "There's this new trend of novels. People are 'falling' into stories and changing them!" Gus glanced at the titles idly, but I knew his eidetic mind had already memorized their names. "Can't we recreate the same thing! Didn't Great Aunt Belinda do that when she wrote her stories?"

"Wrong." Gus' stony voice said without an iota of interest. His only interest was grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, which he did before continuing to write away.

"Isn't it, though? She took people who were dead and gave them a chance at life again. She did this by sending them into story worlds of her making. Great Aunt Belinda was able to create a bunch of different timelines and stories." I said, nonplussed at his lack of emotion.

"No," Gus said as his dried ink eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. This was a shift from his regular stiff face and a clear warning.

I should apologize and bid my goodbye right away. I ignored this instinct, which I had never done before. I, too, could ignore social cues and do as I like! "She did so-" I started to say.

He interrupted me coldly, "Great Aunt Belinda made a deal with a Fate Witch to snatch the souls of people just before they died. She placed them in her stories and let the worlds play out. People read them as they unfolded, and fan favorites became actual books. She did not give them a chance at life again; it was merely playacting."

My chin trembled as I pouted and said, "Sounds like what I said."

"It was incorrect and lacked vital information." Gus' crisp voice reprimanded me. My shoulders slumped as I scurried out of his study, finally defeated and discouraged by the ogre.

You'd think I would take a hint, but alas, my silly fourteen-year-old self-picked the nuclear option. I was tired of spending days with no actual human contact. While fun, the rows of books that never ended were a depressing way to live. I needed someone to talk to, and my only living option was my statue of a brother. So even if he didn't like it, I would spend time with him.

I made it a point to drop by every day after this. Gus' nonexistent patience thinned each day until my asshole brother finally snapped.

"Look at this book!" I said as I proudly waved the cover of a handsome, chiseled man before my brother. Most of his face wasn't shown as he stood with his back facing the world. His posture was toward the gruesome scene of the world ending. Behind him was a petite woman whose beauty was undeniable. Even with the world on fire, the man turned to look down at her. The sweet romantic duo offset the violent world around them. The romantic in me swooned at the image. Even in danger, he kept his love well within his sight. It was so romantic.

I examined Gus' expression and noted that it didn't change. He didn't even bother to look up at my entrance or to see the book. I mentally scolded my stiff brother. I stopped myself from shaking him and screaming, PAY ATTENTION TO ME. But nothing I did made the workaholic do so. The shock of my audacity likely forced his hand the first time. Since then, no matter what tidbits I tossed his way, he clammed up. My stony brother seemed to have resigned himself to my presence but he wouldn't talk back. I would better serve as one of his bookcases or a decorative bookend by this point. At least he would dust me occasionally and spend a few seconds of his precious time on me.

I sat my uninvited butt down on the plush leather sofa in his private study and started sharing the plot with him. It was a rather odd novel about a world-ending event. A meteor almost crashed into Earth. The world's governments came together and found a way to destroy it in orbit. Unfortunately, the strange rock's dust scattered everywhere and fell into the Earth's atmosphere. As the dust fell, everything on Earth changed. The sun disappeared into a cloud of dust for three weeks. Crops died without the sun, and animals turned to humans for food. In less than two weeks, most humans fell sick, and those who recovered developed strange powers. Within six months, the humans with powers began to fight one another for resources to survive in this strange new world.

This strange world would have fallen apart if it weren't for the male protagonist. He was born again and went through the end of times twice. He grew up in a decently wealthy family who lost everything before the world crashed to an end. In the first life, he ignored and neglected his younger sister. With their ages being so close, it stood to reason that his father had cheated on his mother before she died. What he didn't know was that she was his adopted sister. His father took in an old friend's daughter who had no one else in the world. Communication could have been better in this family. It would have easily solved everything had it been utilized properly. Though clearly, the lack of it served to move the plot along. Still, I could relate to a lack of communication from one's family. I, too, suffer from that every day, so it was very legitimate.

Regardless of the cold treatment of the male protagonist, the female protagonist loved him. Her strong healing powers were used to keep him safe, and the two grew closer during the end times. Still, the male protagonist kept her at arm's length to honor his mother's memory. That is until she died saving him.

"The male lead could return when he was given a second chance. He was able to repent and find out that his assumptions were wrong. He was able to fix his relationship with his true love and his father. It's very touching. Rex's powers grew, gaining a magical space that defied time and space. Although it's an awesome power for keeping supplies, it's not one I would pick."

"What power would you pick?" Gus asked me, and I perked up. It was the first time he had spoken to me in days, and so I brightened.

"Plant manipulation! If you can grow food, there's no need to worry about it. You could become the plant's sun, so it's fine if the sun takes a nap behind space dust. Besides, who needs storage when you're a literary witch!" I held my hand to a book on his coffee table. There was a bright red apple on the cover of it. I calmed my mind as I accessed that ball of power that burned brightly deep within me. The white fire lit me up, and I used that power to rip the apple into creation. The weight of it fell into my hand as it disappeared from the book's cover. I took a bite, savoring the juicy crunch. No longer 2d, the 3d shiny apple tasted as sweet as it smelled. "Of course, to those more fortunate are the blessed fruit of labor." This power that ran in my family's bloodline was extraordinary. I didn't need any more powers.

"Oh?" There was something strange in my brother's voice, but foolish me ignored all the warning signs.

"If I, a literary witch, had premonitions on top of plant manipulation, I'd be set for life. It would be easy to grow food and avoid danger. You'd have to be an idiot to die." I said with a cocky grin.

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

"I got into a fight with some people. I pulled out of a book to discuss it," I said, shaking my head at their foolery. I'm a literary witch. How could they outdo me when it comes to plotting logically? My magic relied on books! I have been reading and absorbing knowledge from the best literary masterpieces since I was three!

"Were you fighting instead of working on your spell work?" His accusation was as scathing as his glare.

I hiccupped and bit my tongue to stop myself from squeaking. Awkwardly, I put the apple on the table and hunched my shoulders. Oops, I shouldn't have said that.

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My brother's stiff expression shifted into a stony fury at my response. "You know better than to waste your magic pulling people out of stories." His nagging words pierced my ears as he scolded me.

I made an annoyed face; he was such a killjoy.

I wasn't brave enough to say any of this to my brother, and instead, I opened a book and pretended I didn't hear him. This was not convincing at all.

"Gwendolyn," Gus said, my name, which meant business. I could count on one hand the number of times he had addressed me this way.

My guilty eyes met his, and I pouted.

Without wasting time, punctual Gus started reaming into me. "Being a literary witch is more than being able to rip apples off a cover. I will give you the rest of your day to complete your monthly studies before I give you a test." After finishing, he pushed up his glasses and returned to his paperwork.

Ugh. He is such a fuddy duddy. I thought of the last time he gave me a test and how badly my head hurt afterward. He asked the most complex questions and really took the fun out of being a witch. I scurried out of his study and into my room.

The scent of roses and old books tickled my nose as I opened the door. I could feel myself relax as I ran into my sanctuary. Pink on pink greeted my eyes. The walls were pink, with shelves with books crammed into every inch available. Other than my bed, there wasn't any other furniture. Since I could pull whatever clothing I wanted, I didn't bother keeping any in dressers. I didn't need chairs or sofas when I had the most beautiful king-sized canopy bed. Pink lace decorated the outrageously princess-themed bed. I dived into it, uncaring how I scattered pillows everywhere.

"Damned, brother." I sulked into my silk pillows that were left. Why was he so mean to me? As the only daughter of the bloodline, I was used to being spoiled. Even the ghostly ancestors pampered me! My brother was the only one in the family who didn't give me what I wanted. It wasn't fair. I thought of the countless books with protective, solid brothers and glowered at the silk pillows. What girl didn't desire that?

I ended up passing out as I ranted out all of my feelings. I woke up groggily hours later in a field of green. Wait, a field of green? I sat up and looked around me. Everything was unfamiliar; all I could see was bright green grass around me. A fluttering noise drew my attention to a piece of paper sticking out of my pocket. I opened it and almost passed out in shock.

Dearest Gwendolyn, watching you sleep so soundly when you should be taking a test inspired me. I decided to change your written test to a practical one. Great Grandma Alduna came up with this one, and you'll enjoy it. You are now in the novel you so glowingly spoke of. You are no longer a witch in this world. You can leave the story once it plays out, or you can remember your magical lessons and leave. If you cannot recall your studies and leave the book, don't worry. Not all is lost. You have five years before the meteor messes up the world. Spend that time wisely. The two powers you spoke of so confidently are now your own. Good luck.

Augustus Girru

There was a second piece of paper, but the handwriting was different and attached to a ring. As I read the label, my heart filled with excitement. It read: Pocket Dimension Ring.

The black gem in the center glittered like the night sky as it looked up at me. I picked it up and mutely slipped it on my right hand's index finger. I hissed as my chest tightened and the ring connected with my soul. This was why the ring was so unique, and it would only come off if the owner died. But even in death, it couldn't be transferred. So, when I eventually left this book, it should go with me. This ring was unique and rather generous of my brother, given how poorly I spoke of the male protagonist having his own magical space.

This pocket-dimension ring was one of a kind. Only one could be made a year with precise craftsmanship by a specific group of witches. They were secretive, with good reason, so all I knew was the basics of this kind of power. I never thought I'd have the chance to see one, let alone own this ring. As sneaky as literary witches could be at grabbing anything, we couldn't rip this out of a book. Powerful items and or magical artifacts had to be made just right. Taking them out of a book either lessened them to almost nothing or had dire consequences and increased the risk of backfire.

The shiny new gift did nothing to quell my seething rage. I'm going to kick my brother's ass. I thought as I reread the note. How could he strip me of my literary powers and then expect me to use my abilities to leave? What was he talking about?

I closed my eyes and felt for that familiar ball of power that burned inside me, but it was nowhere to be found. Instead, I felt a new ball with a softer, warm light. I mentally touched it and gasped as foreign energy invaded my body. I opened my eyes at a strange sound and saw the grass around me explode with new growth.

Shaking with disbelief, I watched as the grass grew tall enough to engulf me. As I tried to catch my bearings, the note from Gus began to disappear, and I stood up in a panic. "No! Please no! WAIT!" I screamed as it faded away. I could do nothing to protect the only clue from my world. I howled like a banshee, but the noise died as I watched the note's dust settle like spores around my head. Images and information flooded me, and I gasped with surprise and pain.

My new name was Wendy Evans. I lived with my grandfather in the most remote part of town. Considering this was a miniature mountainous farming town already remote, that said something. Green's Mountain was the name, and the familiar name reminded me of the male protagonist Rex's journey. It was a small part of his more extensive adventure to unite the world. Revamping this farming town was a must to provide food to nearby strongholds.

I didn't finish the book because I wanted to savor the feeling of pages instead of just absorbing the story. Where I left off, though, the hero was living his second life. He was quicker to travel to Green's Mountain to create a solid colony to protect and expand the farming town. He was shaping up the survivors who were left. Rex was also eyeing a nearby aggressive territory that wanted their food.

I hacked at the grass that grew stronger and wilder at the slightest touch of my skin. I was stuck in this world, and it would end in five years. I vowed to put my brother in a book of my choosing when I managed to get out.

Being in Green's Mountain could have been better, given how its resources would get targeted quickly. Also, the male protagonist would come here, meaning significant conflicts would follow suit.

How was Wendy Evans going to fair with this upcoming storm? I froze as that inaccurate question popped into my head. I am Wendy Evans now. That meant whatever was coming to her would come to me.

So, how would I deal with all of this? I am a literary witch with the power of plant manipulation. I had five years to attempt to master this new ability. To top it off, I was bereft of my almighty literary magic.

Just as despair started to pierce my brain, a wiggling thought burst forth. He mentioned I was given two powers, didn't he? And if the plant power was the first one I spoke of, the other I wanted was now mine. Did that mean I had precognition? I groaned; visions are a tricky power. If Gus went off my description of plant manipulation to grant me that power, what would be the premise for my new visions? I should have gone into detail so he could choose whatever when creating. It could be triggered by touch, sound, sleep, or whatever.

"Asshole, jerky old man," I muttered obscenity after obscenity, hoping with glee he was reading this and flinching. "Stone-faced coal man." Okay, that last one didn't make a lick of sense, but I felt better.

Once I ran out of adjectives and curse words, I managed to find myself in front of a pond. I took this time to look at myself. I mean Wendy. That's who I became, after all. I studied my light brown skin and bright green eyes. The upturned nose was certainly cuter than my original. She had the ordinary features of a child who looked her age of thirteen. There were signs of malnutrition in the gauntness of cheeks. There was nothing special about the lips or ears. My new hair was fascinating—thick brown curls with natural streaks of highlights created by the sun. My own mousy hair never saw the sun, so seeing this brought a smile to my new lips.

She was a contrast to me in so many ways. My light brown skin was pale, nearly white from never seeing the sun. While a little wavy, my dark, long black hair wasn't a wild nest of curls. My eyes weren't green and looked more like faded ink.

I noted that my bright green eyes dulled by the time I finished my inspection. Was this about using my powers? Would my eyes give me away? I'll consider that moving forward.

I closed my eyes and tried some meditation. Once I became calm, I reached the pond with my new ball of power. A plant I couldn't identify stretched from the water to touch my hand. When I opened my eyes to see my reflection, I noted that my eyes only glowed a little before dulling to a light green. Hmm, it may depend on how much power I used. Further exploration and experimentation of my new limits were in order.

I spent time going through memories and making sure to catalog it all. I needed to make sure I could become Wendy in all aspects.

I used these memories to head to my new home. An image of it flitted in my mind, and I winced. As I looked at the house through Wendy's memories, I made notes of improvements and things I wanted to do to it. There was a lot to be done. The once-proud building was now a decrepit two-story house with a huge basement and attic. There were two bedrooms on the first floor, and the master bedroom had a full bathroom. There was another half bathroom by the living room. The kitchen and the living room were heated by fire, which was rather lucky, all things considered. A wood stove and a fireplace were great, but the lack of firewood could have been better.

The second story needed to be rehauled massively. The two residents of the home rarely went upstairs. There could be an assortment of damage done, but when I went up there, I would know. The basement was another unknown factor, as was the attic.

Back to the second story, there is one bathroom, three bedrooms, and a study. There is a small space for a double living room, complete with a fireplace. The most enormous bedroom with a fireplace would be converted into my personal library. My eyes gleamed at the prospect. I didn't care if the end of the world was coming. I was going to have my stories, and I was going to read them comfortably.

The bright green grass that rejoiced at my touch started becoming thick bushes and trees as I finally found myself in the Unruly Forest. There is an official name for the forest somewhere, but everyone calls it Unruly. Even natives in Green's Mountain got lost in its depths. It was known to be a forest that didn't make sense. There was no accurate map because it twisted and wound like tree roots. It led many on a goose chase, and sadly, more than one camper has died due to being lost. It was owned by the Evans family but open to the public until the last camper died twenty years ago.

I used Wendy's memory to enter the forest. The scent of foliage tickled my nose, and I smiled. It smelled so good. The earthy notes of fresh life made me feel at ease. This forest that so few dared to trek was part of my home. I could be safe once I entered. It would also be the best place to practice and grow my abilities. A gift from my reticent brother? I mentally scoffed at that but then paused. Was the Unruly Forest in the story? With the focus on the male protagonist Rex, it stood to reason that he focused on the farms, right? I didn't remember a mention of it, so maybe it was something my brother added...or just left out of the main story. Only some things a writer wrote down stay as they redraft and spruce up their work.

What use was a deadly forest to the male hero?

My brother was powerful and skilled enough to add to this world. He was a literary witch, and if ink and paper existed, a literary witch could make anything happen. It was why my family was hunted almost to extinction. Out of all the witch families gifted with extraordinary abilities, ours had other witches turning on us out of fear. It was possible and an idea to leave it open for reevaluation later.

Recalling the male protagonist really shined a light on what an asshole my brother was. Sure, Rex made some mistakes, but he shaped up and became an incredible male lead. Growth and development were everything my brother would never gain. My brother personally tossed me into a world where an apocalyptic event was going to inevitably happen. "You shitty buttwipe." I combined more words as I glared up at the sky. Read it and weep, jerk.