Welcome to Gaia! ::

AND THIS is the beginning that I've written:

I’d always been fascinated with mirrors. It was just a strange pull whenever I found a reflective surface in the vicinity. I would naturally gravitate toward it and stare at the reflection as if it were my favorite television program. As a kid, I’d imagined that it was a portal to another world, one where magic had flourished alongside technology, and all manner of imaginary beings were real. I used to spend hours there, imagining that I had actually crossed over into this parallel world, having adventures with vampires, werewolves, faeries and elves. I visited many of the same people whenever I ‘went,’ learning how to use magic. As I got older, I did less and less imagining as my homework load increased and I couldn’t stare pointlessly at mirrors anymore. By the time I was fifteen, my imaginings were non-existent, and the faces and names of my imaginary friends began to fade. By my seventeenth birthday, I would still stare at mirrors whenever I got the chance, but my fantasy world was just a wistful memory.
***
“Chloe!” My head snapped up when my roommate shouted my name. Thrown together freshman year by the computer at the University of Minnesota, Abby Connor and I had bonded over a shared love of cult 80s movies and Brendan Urie. She was going into the U’s Carson School of Management (though I think she could have just skipped college altogether and been a model; tall, blonde and graceful, Abby was absolutely stunning) and worked part time in the café in the library basement. I, on the other hand, was a mechanical engineering major who spent too much time daydreaming.
By her expression, I could tell that Abby had been trying to get my attention for several minutes. Although I wasn’t pretending to be somewhere else anymore, I still devoted a lot of my attention to the mirror if it caught my eye. I seemed to be doing more of that lately than usual, perhaps because my dreams had been filled with half-remembered faces and familiar voices for the last few weeks, and my thoughts had therefore been about seven years in the past.
“Sorry, Abby,” I said, shaking my head to clear it, “I was daydreaming.”
“You’re always daydreaming, Chlo.” Abby smiled indulgently. “I wanted to let you know that I’m going out with Nick tonight after work, so I might not be home until late or even tomorrow if I’m lucky.” She smiled and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Abby and Nick Berg had been dating for nearly two years. They met in their freshman orientation session, and they still went out often.
“Alright,” I replied, giggling at her expression. “You do know that it’s a school night, right?”
“Yes, mom. Just because we’ve been roommates for the two years we’ve been here, it doesn’t mean that you’re in charge of me.” I was surprised at how quickly Abby’s mood had changed from playful to annoyed.
“Sorry. I was just kidding. Force of habit from growing up with a sarcastic family.” I was backpedaling as fast as I could, and would have kept going if Abby hadn’t interrupted.
“Gotcha! You should know that my family is just as joke-prone as yours by now.” Her brown eyes glowed with suppressed laughter, and I slapped a hand to my face with a groan as I realized that I had missed her intention, and it wasn’t the first time in the last two years. I was often amazed that I could completely miss when other people were joking, even though I did a lot of it myself. Maybe it goes with the sarcasm territory…
“Ah, I see. Well, you two kids have fun, then.” By now, neither of us could contain it any longer and we both burst out laughing. As she turned to leave, Abby somehow managed to call “Yes, ma’am!” back to me between giggles, and then I was alone once more.
Deciding to take advantage of the solitude for once, rather than attempt to resurrect my childhood by staring into a mirror, I pulled my calculus book from my bag and turned on my computer so I could check the assignment we had been given in class today. Twenty problems on improper integrals. Goody. Luckily, it was early yet, only about four-thirty, and I didn’t have anything else due for a few days, so after this, I would have the whole night to veg out. Or so I thought. Despite my efforts to the contrary, my head kept trying to turn to the mirror. I even went so far as to move it across the room, but as the sky grew dark, it seemed more and more like it was watching me, calling to me. Finally, around seven, I had been staring at the twelfth problem for fifteen minutes without processing what I was supposed to do, and the hairs on the back of my neck were prickling as though someone was staring at me. That’s it. I’m going to cover the stupid thing.
I got up and pulled the comforter down off my bed and approached the mirror as if it were a rattlesnake. As I moved to put the blanket over the glass, my hand brushed the smooth surface, and I was suddenly staring at a man with pale blue eyes and long black hair instead of the white walls of my dorm room. He smiled as though he had expected me to be there, and that smile startled me so badly that I jumped back into one of the posts my bed was lofted on, the comforter over half my face, staring in shock at my bloodless face in the mirror, which looked all the more pale thanks to my dark hair.
The man had had fangs. A million thoughts started to fly through my head at once, most of which were wondering whether I was insane or merely hallucinating. About ten of them were thinking that the guy was hot. Aside from the fangs. Five said that he looked very familiar, and one of those five suggested that maybe, just maybe, he was real. But that was one thought out of a million, and I was busy listening to the other nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine.

Alrighty. I'll work on that. Thankies ^^

Ok, thanks. I'll rework that, maybe sometime...tomorrow?

lol, I constantly change things when I write, no matter how far along I am. I may have even gone back and changed that intro soonish anyway. The tomorrow was mainly me talking to myself...Is it weird when you start to do that online? xD

nice