That Shortstory I had to get out

Somewhere in a city, a young girl reads through a book. The book is a book of poems, by an author known to be reclusive to the extreme.
The girl is a great fan of these poems, for they are of extraordinary beauty and full of true emotion.
Who could possible write such hauntingly beautiful rhymes, the person asks herself.

"One day, I will be like you." she says.
And proceeds to gather information to find her great idol.
But that information speaks of great repulsiveness, and of unspeakableness that discourages most,
if not, everyone from ever visiting this author, for it is said, that the maker of these poems lives in a desolate area, in a house so secure that none may breach into it.
But she would not be discouraged by that. Jumping on her bike, she rode and rode for many hours, using the scenery and a printed map to find said location.
She would soon find it, a place very dreary and rocky, void of any plants and animals.

"What a dreary place is this? Why would anybody want to live here?" She asked herself as she saw the building in the distance.
It was a small building, but it looked stout and secure.
Surely, this was to be safe from nature's forces, such as those that would occur in a vast rocky plain.
Or perhaps it was to keep at bay those who would seek out fortune and materialistic value from said building.
Having pondered all this, she only now noticed, as she reached the front door of the place, that a uncomfortable foreboding feeling overcame her just now.
Burying momentanely doubts deep in her subconscious, she proceeded to press the doorbell button on the terminal.
And she would wait. She waited for several minutes until a response was heard.

"That's quite an early delivery there." a female voice sounded.
Slightly confused, she answers: "Delivery? I deliver nothing, I am afraid, unless you would call my company a deliverance."
She tried her best to speak in a more refined way, likely to impress the owner of the house.

The voice replied: "You are not the delivery man? Oh. That's not good. You should not be here. Leave quickly."

The girl now was curious. Was this the author? It had to be. Everything comes together.
She asked why she should not be there, but received little to no direct information.
What was this person hiding that would be so terrible as to not speak of it openly?
She had to find out. She must know the secret of the author.

"I will not leave until I know your secret. I will remain here, and wait, until I know what fuels your beautiful work." she said, determined, yet slightly worried.
Would she endure? How long will she wait? The answer would be shorter than she had expected.
For only an hour later, her senses were overtaken by the ominous feeling rising, and growing stronger.
She took it as an omen, and an omen it truly was, for the door opened, revealing before her the one who she had looked up for such a long time.
The person she saw was no ordinary person, that much she knew at first glance. But so much more was revealed to her the next few hours.
She knew the price now, but she was willing to pay it. This repulsive person that seemed to be so shunned was, in fact, not as bad as she had read before.
Perhaps it was her fate to meet this person that way, her alone, no one else courageous enough to follow the leads.
She left with the price paid, but she left behind happiness, and she took with her great inspiration to begin her own work, and become as the one she looked up to.


THE END! Golly gee, I don't know what came over me, but this just had to get out. And Im sure you all know who this person is.
The protagonist is unknown and random. Bjorn wanted it to be a girl.