Writer's Syndrome: A unique malady that causes the individual to be plagued with tortured, unhappy and/or troubled (etc) people, these people usually take up residence in the individual's mind, and will not cease tormenting the individual until he or she writes them down. The people then live out their lives, and their story usually ends (happily or otherwise) to be kept virtually perpetually on paper. The individual shall not forget a resident. This disease usually plagues the artistically inclined. An example? How about...

MARIA

Swift as the cabbage. Right as the fox. Sly like a weasel. Run to the stars.
My heels dig into the ground. The ground is soft from the rain. Right as rain? Sly like a fox. Marching to Destiny's. The ants go marching two by two. Little ones cover the ground. Ever moving. Never ceasing movement, Never stopping.
I have to sit and clear my head. Stop and sit. Tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady. SH!!! I have to focus, Destiny's. Destiny is my friend, we are both... Seven. Destiny was six last week. Her birthday cake was a rose-shaped vanilla with pink icing. The candles danced underneath her breath once she wished.
Mm cake. Piece of cake. Easy as pi. 3.14159....
Get up and walk. Left right, left right. 12 12 12. Left left left right left. I giggle and hop on one foot to the lefts that ring in a sergeant's voice through my mind. Uh oh, the sergeant is angry. What are you doing? You're bouncing like a little baby! He's yelling at me now. Quit it and march, soldier!
I walk normally now, trying to get the lefts out of my head. The sergeant in my head scares me and he won't be quiet, no matter how much I try. The sergeant yells AttentION and I began to run, hoping I can leave him behind. I don't. Coward, he yellls, I'll have you imprisoned!
I need someone new to get him out. His name is Jorge and he is nine years old. He'll stand up to the mean sergeant and knock him square in the jaw. He's very strong and brave, and he doesn't want to be in the army.
He appears behind the sergeant with a knife at his neck. Leave the little girl alone. He grins boyishly at me: Hello Maria! Hello Jorge, I didn't know you had red hair. He shrugs and I yelp as the sergeant twists around and socks him in the mouth. Then he hits me-hard-and makes me fall down. I crawl under the tree and take off my backpack. I hear Jorge yell: Didn''t your mother tell you not to hit girls? This makes me sad. The sergeant has no mother, she ran away from his mean father when he was very young. I realize the sergeant is a very sad man, even if he's angry. I open my backpack. Inside I find my notebook, blue with purple swirls. No matter what, I can't have them fighting, loose in my head. I begin to write. On paper I will call myself Clara today, so Jorge says Hello Clara instead. They are still in my head but I am no longer in danger, or at least Maria-me isn't. I am two people, one of them is Clara. I'm in danger only as her. I scribble on the paper. Clara-me is okay now, safely on paper with a semi-happy ending. The sergeant is still alive. He started crying and told Jorge about his mother and mean father who drank too much. Jorge to him to the Good Kingdom and he became a prisoner for at least five years. Maybe more. The sergeant hopes that someday he can fight again for the good kingdom. I don't. Clara and I know that he has too much anger tainting him for the king to do that. Jorge gets knighted and goes on many quests. When he grows up he marries Clara.
Half an hour has gone by, Destiny is waiting! I begin to run, as fast as I did from the sergeant.
“Maria!” she yells when she sees me running, “What took you so long.”
I shrug, “Jorge and the sergeant started a fight in my head.” I show her the story and she nods, “I like this part,” she points.
The boy's hair is as red as the cinnamon hearts the sergeant used to steal at the market. He didn't steal to be bad, or because he had no food-he stole bread for that-he stole them because they reminded him of his mother. At night, in the safety of his locked room, he would listen to his father's drunken screams as he sucked the cinnamon hearts into nothing, one by one, until only the memory of a taste lingered.
I nod, “The sergeant's father was a bad man.”
Destiny shakes her head, disagreeing, “He was sad too. He drank even though he didn't want to and it forced him to hurt the ones he loved. Do you know what happened to him?”
“No, he wasn't there. Only the sergeant's memories. He hates him.”
“Yes,” she nods thoughtfully, “I hope they will meet again.”
“I don't think they will.” Destiny likes most of the people in my head and she befriends them.
“I know. But I still hope.”
When she finishes my story she asks me if I wrote any more at night. She had seen me after supper and they hadn't bothered me since then, so I shake my head.
“Alright, let's go!”
I get to the playground with her and she asks me to read her her favorite story. The one where the fairy takes the girl named Helena away to the magical fairy land. Once Helena gets there she can't go home, until she meets an evil sorcerer who will let her leave only if she kills the beautiful fairy. The sorcerer gives her a special knife, but Helena can't do it. Instead she stabs the sorcerer while he sleeps. The happiness of all the fairies breaks the barrier that keeps Helena in and she is returned home. The fairies promise to visit her each All Hallow's Eve, and to bring her gifts from fairyland.
I've never read a story of mine aloud before and shortly after I begin, Lemondrop, the fairy is standing beside Destiny. “Hello.” Her voice is made of silver bells. “Do you want to come with me?”
Destiny nods, entranced. My mind is spinning, I must have read her out! “No! She isn't Helena! Leave her alone!”
I try to read Helena out of the story before I realize that when I wrote it, Destiny WAS Helena. Just as I am Clara. The fairy laughs at me, “Maybe I'll take you some other time.” She then turned to Destiny-Helena, “Are you coming, Helena dearest?”
Destiny nods and takes her hand, they fly away.

I know that Destiny returned four months later. She was alright, just a little shaken and telling ridiculous stories about fairies and sorcerers I made come to life. They sent her to an asylum for children in the city and I never saw her again. For all I know fairies still visit her on All Hallow's Eve.

Sorry about the ending! I really need to change that...