Obsession. Not a word I'm unfamiliar with.

Third grade. That's when I found my first obsession. Animorphs. Fifty-four books written by K. A. Applegate, a woman who inspired several stories from yours truly.

And me? Who exactly is "yours truly"? I have a name, sure. A first, a middle, a last. Unlike the characters in these books, I can tell you what they are, but I'll choose not to. Not entirely.

Kat. That's all you'll get from me.

Twenty-three? Is that how old I am now? Married, no kids, just three fur babies. Words filling my head one-hundred-percent of the time.

Bored yet? Good. Because it gets interesting and you probably shouldn't go anywhere.

The train passes by slowly. I'm already late for work, what's a few more fricking minutes? Doesn't matter. Don't care.

Three years, part time. No hopes to be full time but I love where I work. A bank-I know, that sounds boring, too.

My blinker clicks, definitely not lining up with the music thumping in my speakers, probably too loud for eight in the morning, but I don't care. Not right now. Too angry and frustrated. Flustered.

I dig in my bag for the keys to get into the bank, my hand brushing the three Animorph books in my bag.

I go through them pretty quickly.

There was a time in my life-yes, maybe i had too vivid of an imagination or perhaps I was just dumb-but I believed Animorphs was real. The characters, the aliens... and sadly, that's all behind me. Reality greets me each morning. There's a ton of me that wishes it was real, that I was placed in the middle of the battle in the stories as well.

You probably have no idea what it is I'm talking about. But... I really shouldn't wish to be in the midst of that kind of war. Too many people would be hurt, would be killed... And yet...

I shake my head, a tingle rushing through my body. I want to be something more. Some magic, some fiction, some strange reality to wrap me in its arms. It's why my mind keeps pumping out these stories, these terrifying tales. I sit around, writing, drawing, singing-but feeling as if I'm supposed to be doing something more, something that will make a difference. Yet, once again, here I am, late for my job as a teller at a bank.

The train finally passes and the arms go up, earning a sigh of relief from me. I pull forward and to the left, the tracks bumping under my car.

Another shiver washes over me.

SOMETHING MORE...

The voice. It's everywhere and nowhere at all, as if it's only within my head.

My heart jumps out of my chest. I look around in my car, nearly falling off the side of the road as my throat tightens. What in the world...?

I think I'm going insane.

Finally, I get to my work and head inside, shutting the door behind me and making sure it locks. The lobby isn't open yet, so everything is locked.

I turn to head down the hallway when the world around me changes. My knees liquefy butI keep my balance, trees around me. The sound of a rushing river is nearby, and the sun filters through the densely-packed trees. Animals move and shift around me, living their lives and acting as if they had not just appeared out of nowhere around me. I was in my bank, it was eight-thirty in the morning...

Speechless and breathless, I search for any kind of sign. Is. This a dream? Had I passed out? Had I-

I find myself looking at my hands, at my clothing. Different. Smaller. Tanner, like I actually spend time outside in the Texas heat.

Texas...

This doesn't feel like Texas.

Not humid enough. Not hot enough.

I bite my tongue, the pain telling me it's real. Still skeptical, I smack my thigh. The sting reassures it's real.

But... how?

My body's got a bit more meat on it; not like the well-shaped body I'm used to, but it's me. I know it's me. The nearly invisible birthmark on my arm and the randomly placed freckles I've seen my entire life tell me that much. However, the burn I'd received from touching the microwave oven at work on my wrist isn't there; there isn't even a hint of it. My hair, normally dirty blonde, is a rusty red, like when I was in middle school, when my mom let me dye my hair for the first time.

I touch it. Touch my face.

Baby fat.

Baby fat I grew out of when I turned, like seventeen, in high school.

Unable to breathe in the strangely clear air, I stumble forward. This isn't the Texas humidity I'm used to. At least... that isn't what it feels like. If I'm in my home state, it doesn't feel like it.

And there's this weird crackle to the air, like there's something tugging at me, telling me that there's something strange going on here. Which there is. Of course. But.

The feeling is gone the next instant. My eyes travel to the sound of hte river, something eerily familiar about the scene. Not that I've been here before, but there's this feeling in my chest that makes me ache all over, as if something traumatic happened here to someone, something meaningful.

With the sun rising in the distance, I decide to head deeper into the woods, heading upstream and then away from it. Several creatures cross my path: skunks, squirrels, birds I recognize from my bird books growing up but am unable to name. I was always fascinated with animals, even before I began reading Animorphs. Five kids with the powers to morph any animal they touch and an alien called an Andalite. I believed with my entire being that these people, these creatures were real growing up. My imagination is too strong an opponent to battle and win. Always has been. So I have to tame it by trapping it in ink in one form or another.

Hoping I find one version of civilization or another, probably unable to take care of myself out in the wilderness, I come across a small clearing. That eerie feeling continues to follow me as I shudder, a great contrast to the peace that presses against me as I look around for a sign of life-of human life, finding nothing of the sort. Instead, I'm distracted by the sounds of something approaching, the grass crunching softly. I turn to look, hoping it's a human, and momentarily freeze.

Before he can see me, I dart back behind the thick tree, pressing my hand flat against my chest. Am I going insane? That can't really be... This is impossible. Did I fall and hit my head or something and wind up in a coma? This is impossible. But of course, if he's here...

I swallow hard and peek around the tree once more, taking in the creature walking in the pasture.

With his four hooves, it's more like trotting.

Blue and tan fur, body like a small centaur with a long deadly tail ending in a scythe. Two stalk eyes swiveling on top with two more almond-shaped eyes on his mouthless face. An alien race only existing in one book series, in my obsession.

An Andalite.