I am Iama the Terrible! Fear me, for my touch may turn you to gold! Such nonsense. To think I actually once said such things about myself. To think Grace actually believed me! There’s a lot more to my personality than that, as you will find, if you read ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’. Am I truly such a lost, lonely little girl at heart? Can you truly repair me, simply by fixing an old clockwork toy I’d long forgotten? My dark tower is nothing more than a high rise, occupied by ambitious people, who’ve set aside their dreams in order to move forward, such as I’ve done. A broken heart is simply one more obstacle, which I’ll transform into gold, setting upon my shelf, along with the other rewards I’ve won. That is, if my author ever finishes my story and submits it to Prizm. ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’ keeps taking a backseat to other Prizm submission. It’s time for me to do something to attract our author’s attention, so she can continue our journey and finish it. It’s been a long journey, since she originally wrote this story, when she was eleven years old. It’s been transformed into an attempt at steampunk, whatever that’s supposed to mean. It’s the world which I live in, beyond which, nothing matters. It’s the world she lives in, too. Why am I thinking of her, at a time like this? Surely, I should have outgrown Nathalie, along with other childish things. Yet, I keep Grace around, who constantly reminds me of Nathalie. My author definitely needs to spend some time with me, so I can move past all this…past. Yes, one needs to keep moving forward, not looking back. Why does it feel like the key to moving forward is somehow buried in the past? Not that I want to look back. I may not be happy, but I have been successful. It’s more than most people hope for. Why do I keep wanting more?