What’s fanfiction anyway? Basically it is a kind of fiction story that takes inspiration from another story or real life characters.
This is fanfiction: a story in which Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott get married at the Burrow (all of this is Harry Potter), but then Sadie Kane (from the Kane Chronicles) and One Direction get involved and cause a lot of ruckus, and then Harry Styles accidentally gets Polyjuice Potion down his throat and becomes Harry Potter. If you want to read something like that, this site is groomed up with it.
Well, I do read fanfiction. I do enjoy reading it because it’s like adding on to something really popular, and that’s what I always do.
But when it comes to writing, I like to be totally original, with my own characters. Why? Because I’d get more praise for my story. Maybe even get it published, even though I haven’t been published yet. Also, I’m not a fangirl (a girl crazy obsessed with anime, manga, popular books, or popular people) because when I get obsessed with things, it’s not that much of an obsession. Usually fanfiction is written out of obsession.
Another reason I don’t do fanfiction is that I have to use characters that are already thought of by another person. It’s much easier to cook up something from scratch.
However, here is an exception, because I was bored, and I think this would qualify as fanfiction. I showed it to my friends and family and refined it a little bit. It’s not very good, though. Note: I do not have Instagram. But I’m thinking of getting one soon.
Raindrops made their way through the cracks in the concrete, dripping onto windows and turning the California heat-exhausted dirt to mud. The sky was as cold and gray as Draco Malfoy’s eyes. I plunged into the sofa, a hot mug of Abuelita chocolate drink on the ottoman nearby, and pulled out my laptop, to read the stuff on WordPress. I didn’t feel like posting yet.
I shivered. I was only wearing a thin shirt and some cotton capris because I had just gotten home from an errand clothed in rainboots and umbrellas and bulky raincoats and thick sweaters and skinny jeans. I needed a break from heavy clothing, but the break was up. I trudged upstairs to my bedroom to get some warmer clothes.
I opened my closet, and suddenly a pack of hangers lunged toward me. One of those hangers was razor sharp and cut my hand. Immediately, blood rushed out and dripped onto my bare feet. Before I could get some good bandages, a centaur appeared. In his hand was a silver bejeweled chalice of centaur blood. I had never seen centaur blood before. But somehow I knew.
“Drink.” I assumed it would heal my cut, so I foolishly gulped it down. “It’s centaur blood. My blood, so don’t worry.”
“Are you sure this is centaur blood? It doesn’t taste very acidic. Tastes rather like Abuelita with a little bit of ganache and vanilla and raspberry.” At that, all the blood gushing out switched direction and stuffed itself inside the opening of the cut. Then skin rushed from the sides and closed the cut promptly. It looked like there hadn’t been any cut in the first place.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” the centaur cried in despair. “You were supposed to die on orders of Her Imperial Majesty, Jadis, Queen of Narnia! You have obviously read the Chronicles of Narnia or else my bloody insides would have tasted acidic and would burn your tongue off!”
“When I was little I read them,” I answered. “And the White Witch is dead. You’re probably just one of the last supporters of her trying to resurrect her by using a weird method.” To scare the centaur further, I transformed into a stuffed fuzzy GlowPet, and the centaur turned to dust, leaving only the chalice.
I would have wanted to know what was happening in Narnia, but I told myself, “This is just a dream. Don’t think about it,” and snapped a photo of the chalice with my phone to put on Instagram.