Jules stood atop a big hill just outside the town of Dale, the cold winter wind whipping about his face. He zipped his jacket and pulled his tri-cornered pirate hat over his ears as far as it could reach. Ever since his decision to become a "pirate", he was rarely seen without his hat, and his sword always lay in the doorway of the attic where the Inklings met. At first, the boys in Dale laughed a little behind his back, but soon they, too, slowly began buying red kerchiefs and eyepatches.
Jules checked his watch. 2:30. The Inklings would be wondering where he was. Jules crammed his hands into his jean pockets and strode down the hill in the direction of Sybil's house.
He hadn't gone far when two boys around the ages of sixteen and eighteen, one dressed as a sailor and the other in Medieval attire, appeared at his side. They were Jules' characters, Jason Teague and Sorrin Longwalker. For a while they walked in silence.
"Cold, isn't it?" Sorrin remarked.
Jules didn't say anything. Jason grunted, "It usually is in the wintertime, Sorrin."
Jules groaned inwardly. Would Jason and Sorrin ever get along?
"So. . ." Sorrin said, "When do you plan on working on Towers of Iron again?"
"Don't ask me that again," Jules growled. "I will, as soon as I finish Jason's story."
"But I was wondering. . ."
"LO IRIN, SORRIN!" Jules fairly screamed. Sorrin vanished into the frosty gray air.
Jason stared at Jules, wide-eyed. "Wha. . . ?"
"I told him to go away. He keeps bothering me with all his questions about when I'm going to work on his story again."
"Oh. Okay…uh, Jules?" Jason said after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"People are staring at you."
Jules looked around. Almost everyone in the neighborhood was looking at him as if he was insane.
"They must've heard you yell at Sorrin."
Jules reddened. Dale was such a tiny little town, if he didn't think up some explanation as to why he was screaming into thin air everyone would think he was insane...and there would go his career as the awesomest pirate guy ever! He waved at some of the people, who slowly nodded back, amused. A little boy was peeking at him from behind his mother.
"Momma!" the boy yelled, "It's that crazy pirate man!"
"No he's not, Billy." the mother scolded, "He's just a crazy pirate boy! Stay away from him, he's a bad influence!"
Jules looked about for a pistol to shoot himself with, or a hole to disappear into. Jason had vanished with a grin. "Good luck talking your way out of this one!" he remarked right before he faded away from sight.
"Thanks a lot, Jason!" Jules snapped before he could stop himself.
Jules looked around at the people, who were still staring. "Um. . ." Jules stammered, "I'm practicing my lines for a play."
Thankfully, the nosy neighbors accepted this age-old explanation, and Jules went on his way up Sybil's street.

Sycamore trees rustled in the chapped January breeze; it had been half a month since the Inklings had gotten together and kept Christmas with each other. In that time they'd begun to receive written requests from each other about what they should share at the next meeting. So Snicket, one of the girl members, had suggested they set up a mailbox of their own. This was heartily agreed upon and since the meetings were held in Sybil's cozy attic, a makeshift little mailbox was hammered triumphantly into the ground. It was always exciting to discover messy little notes penned in Middle Earth fonts or chicken scrawl.
Jules opened the mailbox. There was a letter inside, but the envelope wasn't the kind the Inklings had bought at the store. Jules took it out and looked at the return address. It was from a Mr. Tobias White. The handwriting was cramped and painstaking and Jules resisted the urge to rip it open right then.
Jules went inside and pounded up the stairs into the attic that served as the Inklings meeting place. Yup, there was his sword, lying across the doorway. Sybil, also known affectionately as Jack, tripped over it every time she left but the other members had learned better. Everyone was there, sitting in chairs with cookies and a cheery fire crackled in the stove.
"Cap'n Jules!" exclaimed Leah, his First Mate. "You're late again."
Sarah of the rosy cheeks and long dark hair was sitting in a old overstuffed chair, and by the annoyed look on her face, the pirate had obviously interrupted her in the middle of reading her story. Lucy, a strange girl with wavy golden blond hair to her waist and lively green eyes, was wrenched from her trance and frowned at the interruption.
"Sorry," Jules said, "but I thought you'd like to know that we've got mail."
"MAIL!!" Mariella, who was obsessed with becoming Empress of the world, and R.K., who was the evil Semi-Alter-Ego of Pip, another member, jumped forward at the same time. Mari grabbed the letter away from Jules.
"Stand back or I'll sic my Turtle of Doom on you!" she said to R.K., patting her now famous Turtle. The Turtle blinked sleepily and looked as though it couldn't hurt a fly if it tried.
"Turtles don't scare me!" retorted R.K. He flung his long black cloak over his mouth and Pip rolled her eyes. The Inklings' villain often gave them trouble. "Give me the letter, or I'll order Mark to attack you!"
Mark stood and grinned. "It would be a pleasure, R.K." he said, touching the brim of his hat.
"Mark!" Sybil, the quiet girl who first started the Inklings, looked shocked, opening her brown eyes wide. "Why are you siding with R.K.? A bounty hunter is supposed to catch the villains, not be friends with them!"
"A bounty hunter offers his services to the highest bidder," answered Mark with a crooked smile. "R.K. is the highest bidder."
"You people are insane." This remark came from a girl who was standing in a corner away from the others. Jules had never seen her before.
"Oh, I forgot," said Sybil jumping up, "This is a new member to the Inklings. Her name is Cherith."
"Oho, now you tell us," R.K. muttered as he sat down beside Pip.
"Pleased to meet you," said Cherith with a lilting British/Scottish accent. She was a thin, funny girl with blue eyes and a tendency to say something random completely out of the blue, and she was fond of tornados.
"Uh, yeah. . . me too," stammered Jules. He was looked past Cherith at a boy who was dressed like a pirate, very much like him.
"Is that your character?" Jules asked Cherith.
"Umm. . . no," Cherith snickered, looking at the boy curiously, "I've never seen him before."
"Oh, that's my bro Ian," said Laura, "He just joined too, but let's read the letter."
Jules shook his head as if to clear it. All these new members were getting confusing!

"Okay then," Jules snatched the letter away from Mari, who was still threatening R.K. with her Turtle of Doom. The two opponents sat down and scowled at each other. Jules dramatically opened the letter with a flourish and began to read. From the first sentence the Inklings knew something big was about to happen:

"Dear Fellow Writers,

"You are probably wondering who I am and why I have penned a letter to you. I am an author. Lately I have been watching you all and I have seen your characters wandering along behind you. My young friends, I feel as if we could be of use to one another. Nevermore my raven has told me of your adventures and exploits against the infamous Villain, and I was hoping you could help me with a predicament. My characters have revolted. Even as I write they are wreaking havoc in my bedroom. Only two remain faithful to me: Sylvanus the Satyr and Nevermore the Raven. But Sylvanus is missing and Nevermore, sadly, is grievously wounded. How, I know not; I awoke one morning to find Sylvanus's bed a wrinkled mess and Nevermore's wing bloody and twisted."
Laura, her big blue eyes fixed upon the mysterious letter, clucked softly for Nevermore.
"As you can see I am, as less educated people might say, in a pickle. And I despise pickles. I am begging you, as a fellow writer, COME, and use your writing skills to help me out of this predicament. Somehow I think your experience with testy characters will prove useful to me. Please respond soon; there is much more to this than I am able to write at this time. Some of your lives may hang in the balance.
"Ever your faithful servant,
Mr. Tobias White. "

Jules lowered the letter, a confused expression frozen to his face. The Inklings were silent as the words ‘your lives may hang in the balance’ shivered through the air. The fire cracked and outside, the wild wind shuddered through the loose eaves.
"Well?" Katie finally said. "What is the address?"
Jules looked at the envelope. "1313 Villowern Path, Dale."
"Hey, isn't that the street where the gangs run around?" Ian chirped, eyes wide. Laura nudged him. Lately there'd been rumors of a gang that had been partying around old abandoned houses, keeping decent folk awake, and then vanishing into the night when the police finally got there. The Inklings didn't make it a point to keep up with the latest gossip, being together writing so much, but Dale was so small that something like this reached even their story-tuned ears.
"1313," murmured Hanz, "Isn't 13 bad luck? Then that means double bad luck!"
"I don't believe in luck, good or bad," said Jules. But he felt strange nonetheless.
Leah settled back and played with her monsters in a notebook, trying to forget any anxiety she might have felt. Beth and Gabrielle, good friends, threw their arms about each other’s shoulders. Sam and Meggy looked at each other. Jo and Rose scratched their heads, confused.
“Well,” said Alex, running a hand through his short dark hair, “what should we do?”
Sybil leaned back in her chair and groaned. Maddock was standing behind her, threatening to pull out his sword. “I have the Block, how could I possibly help some professional author get control of his characters?”
“They can barely keep track of us,” Coridin smirked and Jo threw a pillow at him. Mari grinned and stroked her Turtle. Sarah and Jane gave a simultaneous sigh and someone snickered. Nervousness ran through them all. They’d never heard of this guy and here he was, asking them for help with his writing. Cherise and Leah looked at one another, Christina, Justyne and Hanz fought silently over the last cookie.
“This is ridiculous,” Rose finally stood up and said. “Let us storm Villowern Path and help the poor dude out! I mean, we’ve all had struggles like this and know what it’s like, so if anything we should be honored that he wants our help!”
“After all,” Joy joined in, “he did see our characters. He knows us, somehow.”
"So there's more of US out there!" exclaimed Sarah, "I mean, authors that can see and talk to their characters. It’s exciting!”
“I don’t like it,” said Laura. R.K. looked at her and sneered.
Justyne grinned suddenly. “It’s been a month and a half, Inklings, since we had an adventure.”
“You’re right!” Pip hopped up from her chair. “Let’s do it!” The other members looked at each other.
“Why not?” Alex shrugged. His little sister Ness giggled and spilled some cookie crumbs down his shirt. Suddenly the old voracious spirit pulsed through them all, and though it was all still vaguely creepy, it was the beginning of something far beyond any of them could imagine.

Christina stared out the dark window as her father drove their van through the spicy winter air. The moon was too bright, the music playing on the radio too suited for a dark night. The van vibrated beneath her trembling skirt. Sighing, she smiled faintly as Sam, Beth, and the captivating new girl named Cherith snickering in the back. It would be good to have some friends to stay the night with her. Somehow she did not want to sleep alone.

Alex tossed his tooth brushing water at Ness, who squealed and skipped out of the bathroom. He stopped to dry his hands on a towel and felt a draft coming through the cracked window. Now who’d opened that? He moved to shut it. Suddenly there came from the dark forests surrounding Dale a chattering, spitting noise like a dying cook fire. It grew louder until it was a howl of rage and pain. Foliage rustled and a twig snapped. Alex stood frozen before the pane, eyes darting back and forth, trying to pierce the shadows. What was out there?

Meggy twisted a strand of her hair. She and Jo were at Dale’s tiny little mall buying new stationary. Rose had decided to write the professor back, since she had the best handwriting, and the three Inklings were shopping together. On the way they met Lucy, who had been walking alone in a flowing white cape. As Jo and Rose squabbled over whether to buy the blue daises (Jo wanted these) or the formal cream colored doodads, Lucy moved closer to Meggy and whispered, “Do you feel that?”
Meggy nodded. “Something isn’t right.” Her voice was soft but now she raised it and said “Hurry up, I wanna get home so I can tackle Domevlo!”

Hanz stretched and looked at his alarm clock; ten minutes to midnight. He and Sybil were on the chat box, affectionately called the chocolate box, when Katie and Jane joined them.
“What do you think of it all?” Katie typed.
“I think it’s frightening,” Jane shivered as she punched in the keys. Katie bit her lip and nodded.
“Aye,” she rejoined. “The fact that he could see our characters is weird; shouldn’t that be an Inklings thing?”
“I thought it was only to those wild enough to be a member,” Hanz quipped. Katie virtually slapped him as Sarah joined them on her laptop.
“Hi!” she typed.
“Hey, Sarah!” Sybil punched in quickly. “We were just talking about the strange author.”
“Not much to say about him,” Sarah pointed out. “We don’t know him, he can see our characters and we’ve never seen his, and then there’s-” She ran out of room and typed *growl*.
“AND THEN there’s this creepy feeling in the air,” she finished. Hanz agreed and they exchanged possible reasons for it as Sybil and Jane fought with their characters.
“Someone help me, Maddock is being horrible!” Sybil wailed in her comment.
“What else is new???” Hanz said.
“I’ll brb,” Katie typed suddenly. “I thought I heard some animal outside. It might be that the neighbor’s dog killed something.”
“Hurry back,” the Inklings said. They talked for several more minutes. Then Sybil typed “Where did Katie go?” An odd sinking feeling pricked at Hanz and Jane’s palms got sweaty. What was going on?
Suddenly Sarah typed “SHE’S GONE. I called her cell and it didn’t answer.”
“Omigawsh,” Sybil punched out. There went through the friends a ripping, searing fear that made them break out into a cold sweat.

In their cozy homes, Laura and Cherise felt the odd sensation too. Laura hurried to warm up a bowl of soup while her little brother Ian looked up with a strange expression on his face; in her house, Cherise gripped the chair she was sitting in to watch Fellowship of the Ring.

Gabrielle and Mariella were striding swiftly through the cutting winds at one-thirty in the morning, discussing possible ways to push villains into ponds and take over the world…all usual topics in the Inklings. Mari’s Turtle of Doom was tucked under her arm, sleeping soundly. Mari came to an abrupt halt and stood, her long bright orange shoelaces trailing in the frosty ground, peering into the swirling wind. Gabrielle ran into her and stood straightening her nose.
“What?” she demanded.
A horrible CRASH came from an alley nearby and Gabrielle yelped. Mari brandished her poor Turtle as a tall shadow made its way towards them.

Jules with his little brother Mark and Pip with her SAE, R.K., paced up and down Jules’s hallway.
“I say punch him,” R.K. said, as if that solved Sorrin’s testiness.
“You idiot, I can’t jest go and punch my character,” Jules griped. Pip rolled her dark eyes.
“That’s his answer for everything, punch it.”
Mark grinned. “I like that approach!”
“Thanks,” R.K. said and draped his black cloak around Mark’s shoulders.
“Threaten to kill him off,” Pip suggested. “I really can’t give you any help cause all my kids are good. ’Cept him, that is,” she jerked her thumb back at R.K., who scowled happily at her.
Jules pushed back his tri-cornered hat and yawned widely. “I’m too sleepy to deal wi ’em.” He ignored Sorrin and Jason, who were grinning wildly in the corner.
R.K.’s curly reddish brown head shot up and his piercing glare flitted about the room. “What was that?”
Mark looked up at his new friend. “What? That mighta been mah stomach. Jules, is there any more pizza?” His big brother nodded absently and let him wander into the kitchen. It was so quiet for a moment they could hear the whoosh as Mark opened the fridge and they saw a slanting blue light fall across the tile floor.
“Didn’t you numbskulls hear that?!” R.K. snapped. “Now I have a headache…”
“Well, what was it?” Jules rammed his fists into his jean pockets and tapped his foot.
Pip’s brow was creased and she sighed. “I have no idea what that was. It’s too late, R.K., we should go home before you scare someone-”
A splintering crash shook the walls of Jules’s house and the friends fell to the ground.