FINDING ROCKY'S FAMILY

Thank you to my siblings, my uncle and aunt and especially the author of this article, Greg Oliver (Sports Writer), and Adam Duerson (Executive Editor, Sports Illustrated) for believing in me enough to take a chance. I am forever grateful.

 Click the photo to get the article.

My Radical Truth...

One of the steps to healing a deep wound is to tell your radical truth so here is mine.

I AM A DADDYLESS DAUGHTER.

My father made a living in a sports entertainment field and traveled a lot, passing through towns, cities and countries, drinking and carousing. It was a "love 'em and leave 'em" mentality back then, so I don't begrudge my father the lifestyle he had when he was young. I could have been one of countless children he left behind without knowing after a one night stand.

But I'm not. My story is different.

My father came to Vancouver for work and actually had a relationship with my mother for a number of months.  When she became pregnant, he promised he would bring her (and me) on the road with him and would always take care of us. Then, several months into her pregnancy, he left and never came back. The last time my mother spoke to my father was on the phone the day I was born.

I grew up having to see my father on TV, knowing that he didn't want me. Very painful, indeed. I made several attempts to reach out to him over the years, but he always refused contact.

As a direct result of my father's abandonment and repeated rejections, I have spent my whole life feeling:

UNWORTHY
UNLOVABLE
UNIMPORTANT
UNWANTED
UNACCEPTED

Even though I am well on the road to healing, as with all abandoned children, the scars we are left with will never fully go away.

There you have it. My Radical Truth.

On that note, our website is up.

JUST CALL ME LISA

True Forgiveness...

Can you forgive someone yet still carry anger for them?

NO.

However, I convinced myself I could.

What I really did was turn the residual anger I subconsciously carry towards my father on someone else. I've come to the realization that while I may have forgiven my father for not being there, I haven't been able to get past the fact that to this day, he still won't acknowledge my existence. It's weird, really. I don't want a relationship with him but it still hurts that he is not sorry.

And I guess the hurt over that goes deeper than I thought. But it will be okay. I am now aware of it and being aware is the first step towards letting it go.

The second step is acknowledging that I let the hurt affect me and my actions.

I acknowledge that I still have a path I need to walk before I reach the point of being fully healed. And if I want my film to be painfully honest, real and organic, I am going to have to address this issue on camera.

I'm still having a hard time opening up and expressing my true feelings on camera because I've kept everything inside myself all these years. I'm hoping that acknowledging it here first will make actually talking about it easier.

I knew this was going to be the most difficult project of my career thus far, but DAMN!

Guess we will find out how my journey ends when I finish this documentary.

On a final note to parents, don't abandon your children. It fucks with their minds...

My absent father

A year ago, I really didn't know if I would ever make it to the place I am today or if I would ever be able to write the letter below and actually mean it.

Yet here I am and I do. I mean every word.

To my absent father:

I forgive you. I forgive you for not being there. I forgive you for not wanting to be there and I forgive you for all the pain you caused me through the choices you made.

I may have never met you but we remain connected through negative emotions and it is time to sever that connection and set both of our souls free. I don't want anything from you and you owe me nothing. I absolve you of any karmic debt connected to me.

I thank you for two things -- for giving me life and for the creative talent I have been blessed with that obviously runs in your side of the family. I acknowledge that most of my talent came through you. However, nurturing that talent and always striving to use it for the betterment of humanity comes through me and the life lessons taught to me by my mother.

I never thought I would be able to say this, but I am thankful for you and how you treated me. That pain made me the person I am today and I am proud of who I am.

Just Call Me Lisa

Turning the camera on myself is not easy. But for this documentary, it is necessary.

One of the most difficult, challenging and scary things I have ever done, yet also one of the most honest, soul-freeing and healing. I can't hide my true feelings from the camera so you get to see the real me. The painful part that I usually keep hidden. 

And the things I have discovered on this cinematic journey so far? You'd have a hard time believing me if I told you...

Thankfully I don't have to tell you because when this project is complete, you can see it for yourself.

Stay tuned.

And I finally have my documentary title!

JUST CALL ME LISA

A Journey of Healing

“I don’t feel like I have a family name or history that I am connected to. When I was born, my mother didn’t want me to have the stigma of being a bastard on paper so she gave me her ex-husband’s last name, Pinter. I was married for awhile and became Lisa Purves. After I got divorced, I couldn’t go back to Pinter because it doesn’t belong to me. I couldn’t take my mother’s maiden name because her father wouldn’t accept her giving him a black grandchild. I couldn’t take my father’s last name because he refuses to acknowledge me. So I kept Purves, even though that doesn’t belong to me either. When I introduce myself to people, I always say my last name really fast and when they say, Lisa who?, I tell them to JUST CALL ME LISA...”

Started out this doc with plans to have numerous people in the same boat as I, share their stories. Turns out it isn't easy to find people willing to open up their inner pain to the public. Who knew?

Well, someone's gotta do it -- it's the only way to shed light on how deeply being abandoned by a parent affects a person for life -- and my director thinks it should be me.

So okay.

2018 brings change!

Long time!

2017 was an interesting year for me, especially in it's final few months. It's a long story so I'll cut to the chase, I'm making my first feature length documentary.

Last year, I was working on an especially deep and dramatic script and in the middle of writing a particularly difficult scene between a father and daughter, I burst into tears. That's not unusual since as a writer, you become your characters while writing so you feel all their emotions, but this time was different. This time, the crying didn't stop for a few months. Until I finally realized that my issue had nothing to do with the script I was writing and everything to do with the painful feelings about being abandoned by my father as a baby.

I started doing research about my circumstance and came across a plethora of information, statistics, papers, interviews, books, etc., about the effects of being abandoned by a parent and in it all, I found myself. Completely, absolutely me and how I felt deep inside throughout my whole life. I also found that I am not alone. Not by a long shot. The statistics of abandoned children and the repercussions of being one are staggering. So staggering that I felt compelled to bring the issue to light.

I put my other projects on hold to make a documentary about abandoned children which will include my own personal story. I'm asking people involved in this documentary to share their own private hell, which includes feelings of shame, humiliation and unworthiness, in a public platform when it's hard enough to acknowledge those feelings within yourself. I can not ask any of them to do something I am not fully prepared to do myself.

I started by telling parts of my story through my social media accounts in the past few months and will tell the rest in this documentary. And if you are curious, yes, it sucks. Yes, it is embarrassing for me, and yes, it hurts. A lot. I liken it to having open heart surgery while you are awake. But on the flip side, I have found such a strength in myself that I never knew existed. I'm well on my way to being healed and I sincerely hope to help others find the path to their own healing through this film.

So let the games begin! Stay tuned for more details :)

And I did have a title, but as with documentaries, you follow one lead which leads you to another until suddenly the story is much bigger than you first anticipated. There will be a title change in the near future.

Happy 2018, all. I hope this year leads you on a path to fulfillment within yourself just like it did for me :)

Movie of the Week!

One of the short films that I wrote and produced, DEUTERONOMY 24:16, has been chosen as Movie of the Week on shorts.tv starting Saturday, July 22nd, 2017.

They even put together a short teaser for it.

If you happen to subscribe to the channel and want to check it out, please do :)

Our official poster and trailer!

Opening my next door...

Our small slate of three shorts films sold to The Shorts Movie Channel, ShortsHD on DIRECTV and a number of other providers. All three will be available in the USA and Europe to over 40 million viewers! They're all great films (nope, not bragging - lol) and if you happen to be interested in our work, check them out!

We are all super-happy and I am especially proud because with that, my little short film career comes to an end.

I am a writer first but needed to learn how to produce, mostly so that I could control my own writing. I didn't want to take some boring classes so I jumped into the short film industry to learn everything hands-on. I figured that if you're going to fuck up, which you're bound to while learning, it's better to be on a short film than a feature that has a hell of a lot more $$$ at stake. Good decision, too, as I've made some fuck ups along the way, believe me!

I've worked on many many short film projects over the past five years (although quite a number are not listed on my IMDb page -- sometimes I refuse credits), a TV movie and a feature film, and am confident that I have acquired enough knowledge to move towards my next set of goals!

What are my next set of goals, you ask?

The specifics are personal for now, but they do involve writing and feature films. And also branching outside of Canada!

Hello 2017!!

I'm having the best start to a new year, EVER!

Can't release details yet, but in the past 5 days, one of my films was sold (actually 3, sold as a package, but I only wrote one of them, the others I was a producer on), was informed another has a premiere screening in a couple of months and received the official invite to the red carpet screening of our feature comedy, LAST NIGHT IN SUBURBIA, which is ready for release!

If this is any indication of what 2017 has in store for me, bring it on!!

Yes, I am a backward type of gal...

So like pretty much how I do everything else in my life, I write backwards. No lie. I generally start at the end scene and jump around in no particular order until I have a script. I always write my opening last.

And I don't outline. Well, unless I am on an assignment and an outline is required. But when writing my own work, I never do it. I feel like it holds me in a box and blocks my creativity.

At the beginning of my writing career, many many people tried to break me of the way I write, telling me it was wrong, telling me I was wasting my time by not laying out the scenes first. I tried to listen, I really did, especially to the most experience ones. But it was tedious and horrible and I hated every minute. Then one day I asked myself, why the fuck am I putting myself through this to satisfy others? It makes no sense. So I started writing my way again because my way ISN'T wrong. It is right for me because it is MY way. I like to do things backwards.

Which brings me to my short film, DEUTERONOMY 24:16.

The general practice in the indie world is to send your film through the festival circuit, and at the end, enter it into the LEO Awards.

Well, I did that one backwards too. I literally received the final locked cut the film about 12 hours before the deadline to submit to the LEO's. If I would have waited, the film would not have been eligible next year due to the timeline. So I submitted!

Was I ever surprised and honored when it received 5 nominations! Especially because no one had even heard about it before -- it was up against many other films that had scads and scads of screenings and awards from the festival circuit and a lot of exposure.

We weren't awarded a LEO, but it is totally good :) The films that received them truly did deserve them and I am still so happy that we were even nominated!

I've just started entering DEUTERONOMY 24:16 into the festivals and can't wait to see how the journey unfolds.

We will see if my way of doing things backwards will pay off! So exciting.

xoxoxo

Behold, our poster is ready!

2016 LEO AWARDS

This morning I was informed that my short film, DEUTERONOMY 24:16 garnered FIVE Leo Award Nominations!

Best Short Drama -- Lisa Purves, Sam Vincent, Mike Khazen, Andrew Francis (Producers)
Best Direction -- Leen Issa
Best Writing -- Lisa Purves
Best Cinematography -- Stirling Bancroft
Best Editing -- Paolo Kalalo

Congratulations to my wonderful, talented, and devoted team!! I am so proud and happy to have worked with each one of you and look forward to our next project, a TV series... which goes to camera on this coming Friday!

And a giant THANK YOU to the LEO Awards for your consideration!

A BLAST from my past...

Here's something I wrote awhile back for shits and giggles.

Oliver the Twisted

A short story by Lisa Purves

“I know you fucking heard me, luv, so quit pretending to be deaf!” he demanded, in the most ridiculous attempt at an English accent I have ever heard.

I looked up from where I sat on the bench to see the man looming over me, his face mere inches from mine, the very same man that followed me down to the beach this morning but disappeared before I could tell him to get lost.

Damn, he was good. I never heard him or even sensed his approach. He certainly didn’t intimidate me, though, so I held his stare. From this close, I could see the mischievous sparkle under the anger in his ice-blue eyes, although it was hard to tell if the frown lines on his forehead were real since they were partially covered by the stupid baker boy cap that threatened to slip over his face.

I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I thought you people couldn’t swear.”

“Ah, luv, so little do you know.” He shook his head sadly. “There is no rule that says we can’t swear, it’s just that most of us choose not to swear because…” he blinked innocently. “…it’s a motherfucking waste of the Queen’s cocksucking English.”

I had to hold back a smirk. He did score some points for being funny, I’ll give him that. But I still wasn’t going to accept him.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Having tired of the game already, I responded with sarcasm. “I must have forgotten that I sent you an invitation… wait a minute,” I gave him a pointed look. “That’s because I never sent you one. So how about fucking off?” I turned back to my book and pretended to flip through the pages, hoping that if I ignored him long enough, he’d go away. Fat chance.

He plopped right down on the bench beside me, and stretched out as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Ignore me all you want, luv. I have no intention of, as you so eloquently stated, fucking off,” he said. “You’ll find I’m much different than the others.”

He has no idea what I am capable of, I thought to myself, no idea at all. Ah well, his problem, not mine. He’ll learn. I grabbed my stuff and left.

As I headed away from the beach and up the pathway, I tried to pretend all was normal even though it wasn’t. How could it be? This ridiculous man not only followed me, but was skipping around me like a pansy as I walked, and he was putting me in serious danger of scuffing my precious Jimmy Choo gladiator flats.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself.” He said from beside me.

I ignored him and kept on walking.

“Oliver,” he doffed his hat with a courtly bow. “And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, luv.”

I couldn’t hold back my mirth. “Oliver?” I stopped to look him up and down, taking in his ratty tan pants that were tied at the waist with rope, his once-white shirt and his tan vest that was missing all of the buttons except one, and that one was in danger of dropping at any minute. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his shoes lest I throw up. “Let me guess. Oliver Twist. And I suppose you were born in 1837 to a life of poverty?” I shot a scathing look at his neckcloth. “I certainly hope so because I’d hate to think you chose that get-up yourself.”

“You don’t like it?” he asked, before smiling and dipping into a pirouette. “I think I look quite smashing, indeed. I spent a long while picking out just the right color scheme.”

His one pirouette turned into many as he opened his mouth and started to sing, actually more like bellow, the chorus to the song, OLIVER, from the musical, Oliver Twist.

“Cut it out!” I ordered him.

“Cut it out? Now why would I do that?” He twirled faster. “This is actually great fun, luv. Perhaps you should let loose for once and give it a try.”

I stuck my foot out to trip him, but he nimbly hopped out of the way and I only succeeded in stumbling over my own feet. Alarmed, I bent over to assess the damage to my shoes, but thankfully there was none. I stood up and glared at him.

His laughter, as he started another set of twirls, was the last straw. I let him have it. “I said, cut it out, you fucking ridiculous imbecile! You are embarrassing me!”

“Embarrassing you? I don’t think so.” He gestured to the family that sat on a blanket a small distance away who, instead of enjoying their picnic, were now staring at me like I was the circus freak. “You’re doing a pretty good job of embarrassing yourself.”

I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment before pasting a serene smile on my face and asking nicely. “Oliver, will you please stop?”

And just like that, he did.

“All you had to do was ask, luv,” he said with a grin.

Lucky for him I tapped down my need to resort to violence a long time ago, otherwise I would have slapped that smug grin right off of his face. Instead, I decided to kill him with kindness.

“Oliver,” I said in my most sincere tone, “I don’t get a lot of time to myself and I was looking forward to some peace and quiet. Would you please go away?”

“Since you posed your request so politely, let me think about it.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, I’ve thought about it… no.”

I turned away in disgust. “You’re an asshole, fuck you.”

But as I tried to walk away, he jumped directly in front of me, effectively blocking my path.

“No, luv, you’re the asshole. Fuck you.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. This guy was a trip. He was so unlike any of the others that I had to shake my head and wonder how he managed to slip past the powers that be and land this assignment.

He grinned at my laughter. “Does this mean I’m growing on you, luv?”

I lost my smile, real quick. “Not a chance.”

Holding my head up high, I stalked away. This time, Oliver didn’t follow.

***

Now that my plans for a quiet day were ruined, I just wanted to go home, so I headed in the direction of the parking lot. Seeing a cute elderly couple walking my way, I quickly changed my frown to a smile of greeting, which they returned. As soon as the couple passed by me, Oliver quietly leapt out of the bush, and with the skill of an expert, reached into the old man’s back pocket and stole his wallet. The old man never felt a thing.

“Give me that!” I shrieked, snatching the wallet out of Oliver’s hand. At my voice, the elderly couple turned back, saw that I held the male’s wallet, and alarmed, slowly backed away.

“It’s okay, lady,” The old man sputtered. “Take it, it’s yours, just don’t hurt us.”

I stepped towards them, “No, it’s not what you think…”

Panicked, the man shoved his wife behind him, grabbed her purse and thrust it towards me. “Here, take this, too. Just please don’t hurt us.”

“Oliver, you fuckstick!” I turned to face Oliver, who was responsible for this mess, and what do you know? He’s gone. Slunk back into the bushes like a thief. I turned back to the couple, an explanation on my tongue, but the look on their faces stopped me. They were scared shitless. Of me.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said, disgusted. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I carefully placed the man’s wallet on the ground in front of him and made my escape in the opposite direction, away from the parking lot. Wouldn’t want the old couple to get my license plates and call the police. After walking for a few minutes, I found myself at the foot of the wharf, so I decided to stake a stroll. Reaching the end, I leaned against the railing, closed my eyes and breathed in the salty tang of the sea air. “Mother nature at her finest, luv. Refreshing, isn’t it?”

I opened my eyes to see Oliver standing there beside me. Is the guy a stealth warrior or what? How does he manage to sneak up on me like that? I glared at him. “First of all, Oliver, I was under the impression that you were against a life of crime. And second of all, please tell me…” I ended on a yell, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Consider that pay back for Miss Odelia.” He responded casually.

“Ah, Miss Odelia,” I allowed a fond smile to flit across my face. “So many years ago, yet I remember her well.” I sent him a smug look. “She sure didn’t last long.”

“I guess not, considering what you did to the poor dear”

“She deserved everything she got.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“She did.” I screwed up my face to mimic Miss Odelia in my best prim tone.

“Your behavior is most improper, young lady. Why, I am appalled at your behavior, young lady.” I laughed. “And my personal favorite, your behavior does not befit that of a genteel young lady, I am simply shocked.” I stared at him. “How would you like to listen to that twenty-four hours a day when you’re sixteen?”

He crossed his arms and gave me a stern look. “First of all, I’m sure she was just trying to tame your wild ways before you got yourself into trouble…” He raised his eyebrows. “For all the good it did.” Then he turned sarcastic. “And second of all, may I remind you, luv, that you pushed her off of a bridge?”

I rolled my eyes. “And?”

“You,” he pointed at me. “Pushed her,” he made a pushing motion. “Off of a bridge.” Then he leaned in close and lowered his voice so I had to strain to hear him. “Off of a fucking bridge when you knew damn well that she was afraid of heights. Why, surely even Bill Sikes would disapprove of using a person’s weakness against them like that.”

Is this guy for real? What a hypocrite. These people have tried to use every one of my weaknesses against me at some point or another in an attempt to bend me to their will. I crossed my arms and glared even harder, if that’s possible. “I hate to be the one to have to inform you of this, Oliver,” I said, my words dripping with condescension. “But she was already dead!”

“Well,” he conceded. “Technically, yes, she was. But that’s beside the point.”

Not only was this guy unreal, he also didn’t know when to quit. Leaping back from the railing, I kicked him in the ass. Hard. Except he moved out the way in time and all I kicked was air before landing on my own ass with a thud.

He roared with laughter and then bent over my prone body, “Please, luv, I want some more.”

“Aargh!” I screamed indignantly, as I struggled to get up.

He smirked. “Careful, you don’t want to scratch your shoes.”

“That’s it!” I hollered. “I’ve fucking had it with you. From now on, you won’t exist to me.”

Oliver leaned against the railing and inspected the dirt under his nails. “Ah, yes, just like my predecessor, Bartholomew. You know…” He looked directly at me. “You surprised everyone with that little ability of yours.”

“I’m sure.”

“No, really.” He coughed lightly and cleared his throat. “We would be most interested in knowing how you managed it.

I snorted. “You tell me. I thought you fucking people knew everything.”

Oliver nodded his head. “So did we.” Then he deepened his look, trying to see inside me, but I blocked him. “Which is why we were so surprised that you slipped that one past us.” He smiled encouragingly. “So how about behaving like a good sport and explaining it?”

Explaining it? Right. How am I supposed to explain something that I don’t know myself? I shot him an innocent look. “How about I behave like a good sport and show you, instead?”

“You could try, but it won’t work with me.” Then he laughed in my face. “See, I came here prepared, luv. You won’t –

I harnessed all my emotions, concentrated my mind and…poof, just like that, Oliver was no more. Vanished into thin air.

I won’t what? I thought to myself as I stalked back up the wharf. Make you cease to exist? Ha.

***

Pulling into my driveway never felt so good. I was going to relax with my book, this time without any interruptions. Unlocking the front door, I entered and just stood in the hall for a moment, enjoying the silence. Then I walked into my living room and stopped dead. There was Oliver, in all his glory, sitting on my favorite chair.

“Hello, luv.” He blinked innocently. “Hate to say I told you so...”

“Quit fucking calling me luv.”

“Quit fucking swearing.”

“No.”

“Then,” he shrugged. “No.”

“Arrrrgh!” I threw up my hands and stalked into the kitchen. I went through the motions of making tea on autopilot, while my mind raced to come up with a way to get rid of him. That little trick was my ace-in-the-hole, and I didn’t have a back-up plan.

I sat at my kitchen table and slowly sipped my tea while I struggled to think of something, anything that I could do. Pouring myself a second cup, I went back into the living room and sat down on the couch, opposite Oliver, who still occupied my chair.

“There is nothing I can do, is there?” I asked him quietly.

“I’m afraid not.” He responded, just as quietly.

I looked at him beseechingly. “Well, do I have to see you? Can’t you at least make yourself invisible or something?”

Oliver frowned. “If it bothers you that much, I’ll change the outfit.”

“It’s not the outfit, it’s you.”

“Me? Ouch.”

Even though he spoke casually, I knew that I’d actually wounded him. I sighed. “It’s not you personally. It’s all of you. You spirits seem so real to me that I keep forgetting you aren’t, and then I look like an idiot in front of real people, for talking to myself.”

“I am not a spirit,” he spat out the word like it was an insult. “I am a spirit guide and I know you’ve been taught the difference.”

“You know what I mean.” I snapped.

Now it was his turn to sigh. “Look, luv, we’re well aware that this isn’t easy for you. Those born with your level of compassion can’t turn it off. Until you learn how to build a filter around yourself, we’re here to stop you from wasting your time.”

I was honestly perplexed. “How can you call helping people a waste of my time?”

“It isn’t. Unless, of course, the person you want to help doesn’t deserve it, in which case, it is.”

I backtracked through my mind, trying to remember all of the times one of these spirits… spirit guides, rather, wouldn’t let me use my gift. “How about that sweet young girl at the mall?” I asked him.

“That sweet young girl, as you call her, took great pleasure in torturing animals.”

“Come on,” I crossed my arms, ready for battle. “What was she? Thirteen? So you’re saying that there was no hope for her?” I gained momentum with my argument and I spewed out my next words. “How about that lonely old man at the train station? What did he do? Accidentally mow his neighbors’ flowers when he was cutting their lawn?”

“Beat his wife, stole from his boss, and fathered his own grandchild.” Oliver said quietly.

“Oh…” The wind leaving my sails. “Um… oh.”

“Yes, oh is right, luv.”

We sat for a few moments in companionable silence, while I struggled to comprehend the enormity of it all.

“I have to ask,” I looked up at him. “Why Oliver Twist?”

“I don’t ever recall stating that my last name was Twist.” He responded with a grin. “You know what they say about assume…”

“Answer the fucking question, asshole.”

“Ah, luv, we really do need to work on that language of yours. It actually is a waste of the Queen’s English, you know.”

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth, ready to spew the nastiest swear words I could possibly come up with, but he silenced me with a wave of his hand.

“Charles Dickens. You always enjoyed his stories, so I sifted through his characters and chose one I thought you could relate to.”

“So you chose Oliver Twist?”

He winked. “One day, you’ll figure it out.”

“Forget it.” I shook my head, insulted. I am the queen of fashion yet he compares me to raggedy-assed Oliver Twist? I glared at him, “I don’t want to know.”

His only response was to raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

I laughed and rescinded. “Okay, I don’t want to know today.”

We shared a smile and lapsed back into silence for a few minutes until I broke it. “Oliver?” I said quietly and he looked up. “Please apologize to the others for my past behavior.”

Oliver looked into my eyes, saw that I meant it, and bowed his head. “Thank you. I accept your apology.”

I didn’t need to ask the question, he read it on my face.

“Yes, that’s right.” He nodded with a grin. “All of them.” His eyes twinkled. “I just kept trying until I found the right personality. It seems there is only one in this infinite universe that you could get along with for life.”

I frowned and lowered my head, pondering his words. I got the feeling that he’d just insulted me… wait a minute, he did!

“Hey!” I looked up, prepared to tell him off, but there was only an empty chair. Oliver was gone. The ignorant fucker.

Then a tinny-sounding voice, with that ridiculous English accent, spoke directly into my right ear. “That’s right, luv. I’m your own personality mirrored back at you.”

I turned, thinking he was behind me, but he wasn’t… well, he was, I just couldn’t see him anymore. He had made himself invisible. But I did hear his laughter, loud and clear, echoing through my head.

“I am Oliver the Twisted,” said his voice in my ear. I felt, rather than saw, his courtly bow. “…and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, you rude, vain, stubborn, foul-mouthed cunt.”

I stood there for a moment, stunned, before collapsing into the heartiest and loudest laughter of my life.