December 15, 1997
This is another very important day. I'm just too lazy to look up the whole date on the internet.
-Z.S.
'And therefore, my dear William, there is a slight possibility that you might not die in the next 100 years or so, and I will, and Robin will dye his hair, and Petunia will dye her hair, and your wife--'
'Please don't say something about my wife dying in any fashion,' a poor, rather disgruntled Will interrupted.
Zelf shrugged. 'Very well,' he said. 'But don't blame me when my amazing prophecies come true.'
'Your "prophesies" say that your little sister will somehow come back to life exactly four years from Halloween, seeking revenge on whoever murdered her and having somehow grown. . . How old are you again?'
'Fourteen.'
' . . . having somehow grown nine years older--'
'We're siblings. My life transference related to her when she died. She immediately grew older. She can't after that, you know. Ghosts don't age.'
(Or so he thought. . . Whoopsies. Saving that for the eighth book. . .)
'And because five-year-olds taking revenge on murderers somehow gives one a mental image of a little kid beating a guy up with a teddy bear.'
Zelf paused. 'Partly, yes.'
'Anyways. Let me continue.'
Zelf bowed, sweeping out a hand in front of him. 'Be my guest, Milady.'
Will looked at him oddly before going on,
'And then she'll somehow grow tentacles and teeth sharp like a lion's and start killing anything and anyone that stands in the way of her goal.'
Zelf nodded proudly. 'Her goal, which is. . .?' he prompted.
'To brutally maim and kill who murdered her and the rest of your family.'
Zelf clapped his hands together happily. 'Yes. Isn't it brilliant?'
Will gave Zelf a funny look. 'Yeah, sure. . .' he said slowly.
Dear Reader, I am still deciding upon my writing fashion. For this story, I am using the way I write in my books. I really do hope you don't mind. Actually, even if you did, I don't think I'd change it. Whatever.
It was the fifteenth of December. Robin's birthday. Melody and Charlie's birthday too, except for the small matter that Melody had just been born and Charlie was about a year old by this time. Yay.
Anyways, back to topic.
It was Robin's birthday, and so he, Zelf, and some of the guards had decided to go out on a little trip for no particular reason, yada yada yada. Read the summary.
That's when Zelf smelt the smoke.
Oh no, smoke! Fire! Ciggies! Kitchen!
That was horrible. I'm changing.
My senses suddenly went into overdrive. The smoke stirred up memories with me, memories of Halloween, which I didn't particularly want to remember. . .
I squeezed Robin's hand when I actually saw the smoke. I completely forgot about Will and my rather strange prophesies. My first thought was that I had to get Robin away from the smoke, and fast. My second thought was that I should probably go and check to see if there was anyone who was close enough to the smoke to be in real danger.
I shoved Robin into Will and ran in the direction of the smell and the smoke. I heard Will calling my name, telling me not to go. I knew that I was acting a bit paranoid, but I couldn't help it. I didn't like smoke. I didn't like Halloween. I didn't like innocent people dying. So screw me.
The smoke was thick and black and ugly. I was coughing before I got to the midst of it. I sincerely hoped that no poor soul was left anywhere near it.
That's when I heard the crying.
I pulled my shirt over my mouth and, blinking furiously, stumbled towards the noise. The smoke was suffocating. To my vague surprise, I didn't feel any extra heat or see any fire anywhere. I guess it had died down somehow.
The crying got louder. I started running, tripping over stuff.
'Help!'
I stopped when I heard the feeble cry. The crying was still going on.
Now I had to decide. Smoke can kill faster and more efficiently than fire can. A little kid was trapped somewhere here, probably suffocating to death. . .
I dashed in the direction of the crying, ignoring the voice. I felt a bit bad, but seeing my little sister dead on the ground was still fresh in my memory.
I kept running and after a few seconds reached the source of the crying. It was a little girl, with hair black as midnight, and skin pale as the moon. She was bawling her eyes out. I had to help her. Plus, my ears hurt from all the ruckus she was making. I had to stop that.
I picked her up gingerly. She sniffed and started sobbing, instead of bawling. She looked to be around two or three years old. Poor kid.
I carefully placed my hand over her mouth and nose. I didn't want her to breathe in the smoke. I also wanted her to be quiet.
My methods were very proficient. She stopped crying, wondrously, and stared at be with dark eyes the same colour as her hair.
'Mama!' she said, her voice slightly muffled by my hand.
My eyes widened as I understood. I rushed towards the voice that was crying for help. It had been reduced to a faint whisper now.
I knelt down next to a woman, with eyes and hair like her daughter's. She looked up at me.
'Take care of her,' she whispered when she saw the child in my arms.
'Mama!'
The kid reached out for her.
She looked at the child. 'I'm sorry, Luna,' she whispered. Then she turned to me.
'In my hand,' she said hoarsely. Her right hand moved a centimeter towards me.
I opened her closed fingers. In her hand was a small silver crescent moon on a silver chain.
'Hers when she gets older,' her mother whispered. 'Take it.'
I took it. The woman closed her eyes.
'Happy birthday, Luna,' she whispered. 'Goodbye.'
'I brought her back to the palace,' Zelf said. 'There was some debate on whether she should stay or not. In the end, she was adopted by the royal family. There was some further debate on how old she was. She kept insisting that it was her birthday. They thought that she was just having fun. The day after that, she said that it had been her birthday the day before.'
'But we know that she's exactly two years younger than Robin, right?' Charlie said expectantly.
Zelf shrugged. 'Sure. Now back to the marshmallows. . .'
-Z.S.
'And therefore, my dear William, there is a slight possibility that you might not die in the next 100 years or so, and I will, and Robin will dye his hair, and Petunia will dye her hair, and your wife--'
'Please don't say something about my wife dying in any fashion,' a poor, rather disgruntled Will interrupted.
Zelf shrugged. 'Very well,' he said. 'But don't blame me when my amazing prophecies come true.'
'Your "prophesies" say that your little sister will somehow come back to life exactly four years from Halloween, seeking revenge on whoever murdered her and having somehow grown. . . How old are you again?'
'Fourteen.'
' . . . having somehow grown nine years older--'
'We're siblings. My life transference related to her when she died. She immediately grew older. She can't after that, you know. Ghosts don't age.'
(Or so he thought. . . Whoopsies. Saving that for the eighth book. . .)
'And because five-year-olds taking revenge on murderers somehow gives one a mental image of a little kid beating a guy up with a teddy bear.'
Zelf paused. 'Partly, yes.'
'Anyways. Let me continue.'
Zelf bowed, sweeping out a hand in front of him. 'Be my guest, Milady.'
Will looked at him oddly before going on,
'And then she'll somehow grow tentacles and teeth sharp like a lion's and start killing anything and anyone that stands in the way of her goal.'
Zelf nodded proudly. 'Her goal, which is. . .?' he prompted.
'To brutally maim and kill who murdered her and the rest of your family.'
Zelf clapped his hands together happily. 'Yes. Isn't it brilliant?'
Will gave Zelf a funny look. 'Yeah, sure. . .' he said slowly.
Dear Reader, I am still deciding upon my writing fashion. For this story, I am using the way I write in my books. I really do hope you don't mind. Actually, even if you did, I don't think I'd change it. Whatever.
It was the fifteenth of December. Robin's birthday. Melody and Charlie's birthday too, except for the small matter that Melody had just been born and Charlie was about a year old by this time. Yay.
Anyways, back to topic.
It was Robin's birthday, and so he, Zelf, and some of the guards had decided to go out on a little trip for no particular reason, yada yada yada. Read the summary.
That's when Zelf smelt the smoke.
Oh no, smoke! Fire! Ciggies! Kitchen!
That was horrible. I'm changing.
My senses suddenly went into overdrive. The smoke stirred up memories with me, memories of Halloween, which I didn't particularly want to remember. . .
I squeezed Robin's hand when I actually saw the smoke. I completely forgot about Will and my rather strange prophesies. My first thought was that I had to get Robin away from the smoke, and fast. My second thought was that I should probably go and check to see if there was anyone who was close enough to the smoke to be in real danger.
I shoved Robin into Will and ran in the direction of the smell and the smoke. I heard Will calling my name, telling me not to go. I knew that I was acting a bit paranoid, but I couldn't help it. I didn't like smoke. I didn't like Halloween. I didn't like innocent people dying. So screw me.
The smoke was thick and black and ugly. I was coughing before I got to the midst of it. I sincerely hoped that no poor soul was left anywhere near it.
That's when I heard the crying.
I pulled my shirt over my mouth and, blinking furiously, stumbled towards the noise. The smoke was suffocating. To my vague surprise, I didn't feel any extra heat or see any fire anywhere. I guess it had died down somehow.
The crying got louder. I started running, tripping over stuff.
'Help!'
I stopped when I heard the feeble cry. The crying was still going on.
Now I had to decide. Smoke can kill faster and more efficiently than fire can. A little kid was trapped somewhere here, probably suffocating to death. . .
I dashed in the direction of the crying, ignoring the voice. I felt a bit bad, but seeing my little sister dead on the ground was still fresh in my memory.
I kept running and after a few seconds reached the source of the crying. It was a little girl, with hair black as midnight, and skin pale as the moon. She was bawling her eyes out. I had to help her. Plus, my ears hurt from all the ruckus she was making. I had to stop that.
I picked her up gingerly. She sniffed and started sobbing, instead of bawling. She looked to be around two or three years old. Poor kid.
I carefully placed my hand over her mouth and nose. I didn't want her to breathe in the smoke. I also wanted her to be quiet.
My methods were very proficient. She stopped crying, wondrously, and stared at be with dark eyes the same colour as her hair.
'Mama!' she said, her voice slightly muffled by my hand.
My eyes widened as I understood. I rushed towards the voice that was crying for help. It had been reduced to a faint whisper now.
I knelt down next to a woman, with eyes and hair like her daughter's. She looked up at me.
'Take care of her,' she whispered when she saw the child in my arms.
'Mama!'
The kid reached out for her.
She looked at the child. 'I'm sorry, Luna,' she whispered. Then she turned to me.
'In my hand,' she said hoarsely. Her right hand moved a centimeter towards me.
I opened her closed fingers. In her hand was a small silver crescent moon on a silver chain.
'Hers when she gets older,' her mother whispered. 'Take it.'
I took it. The woman closed her eyes.
'Happy birthday, Luna,' she whispered. 'Goodbye.'
'I brought her back to the palace,' Zelf said. 'There was some debate on whether she should stay or not. In the end, she was adopted by the royal family. There was some further debate on how old she was. She kept insisting that it was her birthday. They thought that she was just having fun. The day after that, she said that it had been her birthday the day before.'
'But we know that she's exactly two years younger than Robin, right?' Charlie said expectantly.
Zelf shrugged. 'Sure. Now back to the marshmallows. . .'