Author's Notes: Thus begins my first attempt at a Coraline fan-fiction. This is going to be a multi-chaptered short story with a focus on the relationship between Coraline and her real mother. The thing is, towards the middle of the movie, I got the sense that Mrs. Jones knew something was wrong, or at least suspected. Determination is a continuation of the story from the movie based on those suspicions; for when Coraline vanishes without a trace several months later, Mel must uncover the truth about the Pink Palace, and unearth the mysteries surrounding the origins of the "Other Mother" to have any hope of bringing her daughter back. Here we go.

Reviews are appreciated more than faves. Critique is welcome. Flamers will be fed to my slightly overweight cat. Enjoy.


Act I: Reunification

Chapter 1, New Perspective

Mel Jones was not a superstitious woman.

She had always been a bit skeptical when it came to the supernatural; she couldn't watch any of those shows on TV about supposedly haunted houses, ghost hunters, and demonic apparitions without rolling her eyes or shaking her head, or occasionally commenting that the live "hauntings" taking place on the TV were staged for profit.

That was before she and her husband and daughter had been forced to move out to Ashland, to the Pink Palace Apartments. Before her daughter had begun raving about the fantastical dreams she'd been having at night after moving into the house. The ones where she would meet her "Other" Mother, the doppelganger of Mel Jones with black buttons for eyes, that fulfilled her every desire, cooked her favorite meals, and supposedly made every dream come true.

And before the dire warning she had received from the owner of the apartment, Mrs. Lovat, about a demonic spirit that lured young children away, through the little door in the sitting room, drawing them to their doom with promises of all their wishes being fulfilled for as long as they lived.

They had only been in Oregon for three days, and two nights. Mel had 'encouraged' Coraline to visit the neighbors downstairs, the two elderly former "actresses" dedicated to one of the worlds oldest professions. Perhaps those two ditzy woman could keep her daughter entertained for a little while with stories of their years in the theatre, for she knew Coraline had an interest in such things. It would give her some time to work without interruption, some peace and quiet to wrap up the gardening catalogue she worked on with her husband, which they had to turn into their employers the next day.

Unfortunately, she was interrupted anyway; not by her 11-year old daughter, but by the owner of the apartment, whom she found standing on the doorstep looking rather cross. It was at that point that Mel remembered that Mrs. Lovat did not rent the building to families with young children, and that she had deliberately neglected to mention that she and her husband did in fact have a daughter, given that this dilapidated, 150-year old house had been the best they could afford what with their current financial situation.

"When my grandson came home yesterday, he brought to my attention that you have a young daughter, Mrs. Jones," she had stated. No doubt she was referring to the young african-american boy who had left a parcel on their doorstep the day before, that which contained the doll; a homemade, button-eyed miniature replica of Coraline that was disturbingly accurate in appearance to its real-live counterpart. Mel had tried to explain her reasoning, that she had no other options, and that Coraline was reasonably well-behaved and would not cause any damage to the house or be a bother to the neighbors, but Mrs. Lovat would make it clear that she had completely different concerns as to their being a young child living in the Pink Palace.

"I don't rent this house to families with children for a reason, Mrs. Jones. And one far less trivial," she had said as she stepped into the kitchen, after Mel had politely invited her in. This statement had left her rather puzzled, and so she had inquired further; but the superstitious nonsense she had received as an answer hadn't been entirely unexpected.

"What exactly is your concern?" She had asked, befuddled. Mrs. Lovat had taken a seat at the kitchen table opposite of her, looking rather grim.

"This house... is strange. She began. "It isn't safe for children. There have been several... disappearances, all throughout history, ever since this land was settled, and this house was first built." She had answered.

"...including my twin sister," she added, wiping away a stray tear that had leaked from her tired dark-brown eyes.

"Your sister?" Mel inquired; curious, yet secretly a bit skeptical at that particular moment.

Mrs. Lovat nodded. "I grew up in this house. When I was a little girl, my sister vanished without a trace. I never knew what happened to her, but..." She paused. Mel listened intently.

"But what?"

"Before she disappeared..." Mrs. Lovat continued, "...she spoke of these fantastical dreams she had, of another world behind the little door in our sitting room (at these words, Mel froze), and about her 'Other Mother', who was like our real mother, but was nicer, and gave her anything she wanted." Mel was frozen in her seat, having been caught completely off-guard by Mrs. Lovat's tale, and was becoming somewhat anxious for the fact that her own daughter had told her of an identical dream just hours before. But then her skeptical side kicked in, as she realized just what was being said.

"Wait a minute..." Mel interrupted, "...are you trying to tell me this house is... haunted?"

For a moment, Mrs. Lovat did not answer.

"Honestly, I don't know. But I later learned that there were two other children that vanished in this house long before." That caused Mel Jone's skeptical side to reel back a bit. "One odd thing I am willing to believe," she continued, "... but two is no coincidence."

"Mrs. Lovat, I don't believe in ghosts, or haunted houses, or anything supernatural, for that matter," Mel blurted out, having become increasingly uneasy by what the older woman was implying.

"I understand," she replied. "Most would not believe in such things, either for simple narrow-mindedness, or for fear of what the truth might entail". She paused. "But no matter your opinions on such matters, I would encourage you to keep your eyes and your mind open, for your daughter's sake, as well as yours."

Mel said nothing for a moment, silently contemplating what she'd been told. The skeptical side of her mind was trying to assert that this was nonsense, that there was no such thing as ghosts, evil spirits, or demons; much less anything in this house that could harm Coraline, or anyone else that dwelled within. At the same time, the more cautious and motherly side of her told her that there was likely some truth to what this woman was saying... had other children truly disappeared from this house in the past? Did they all have the same dreams about this "Other Mother" before they vanished. Could some other-worldly creature actually be stalking her only child, attempting to steal Coraline away from her?

After a long, awkward silence, Mrs. Lovat chose to interrupt her pondering.

"Mrs. Jones... has your daughter told you of any strange dreams since you arrived here?"

For a moment, Mel did not answer.

"No..." she lied. "No... nothing like that."


The day immediately after had done little to put Mel Jones' mind at ease. She had been woken up the previous night, having heard a noise downstairs, only to discover the little door in the sitting room ajar, though still bricked over. The sight had been enough to make her all the more uneasy, and had led her to creep back upstairs to peek into her daughter's room; she had let out a sigh of relief to find that Coraline was asleep in her bed unharmed, smiling peacefully in her sleep. Nevertheless, Mel hadn't been able to get back to sleep herself until she had found the key for the little door and locked it tight, then placed the key well out of her daughter's reach on a hook above the doorway in the kitchen. Satisfied that her only child was safe as could possibly be, Mel had gone back to bed.

Then, morning came. She had heard Coraline rush down the stairs, like a child normally would on a Christmas morning, and attempt to pry open the door, to no avail. Then, on the way into town, she had started raving yet again, about another dream just like the last one; this time an incredible fantasy garden, with the plants arranged in a fashion that created a mosaic of Coraline's face, and Mr. Bobinsky's amazing jumping mouse circus in the upstairs apartment, hosted by the button-eyed doppelganger of the eccentric Russian acrobat that actually lived in the apartment above them.

Mel had tried to ignore her; listening would mean acknowledging that what Mrs. Lovat had said about the other missing children was true, and that her daughter was actually in grave danger. But she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't; her skepticism refused to allow her to acknowledge such things as fact, and she told herself that she was just being paranoid, or that Mrs. Lovat wasn't entirely sane. If it was true, what could she do about it? Tell her daughter to stay away from that place? She was only 11-years old, and more than that brash, fiery, curious, and defiant. If Mel told her not to go back to that place, she wouldn't listen. Especially with the way her mother had treated her recently.

It wasn't her fault; she had been under a lot of stress, trying to make the move go as smoothly as possible, finish the catalogue before their deadline, and keep their family out of the gutter in the midst of a recession. She had been relatively successful in that regard, though at the price of neglecting her daughter, and Coraline had come to resent both of her parents for that.

"My Other Mother would get them..."

Those words had stung. She'd heard them in the clothes store, after having dropped off Charlie to deliver the new catalogue, when she had taken Coraline to buy a uniform for her new school. Coraline had found a pair of striped, multicolored gloves of green, yellow, and orange, typical for the eccentric 11-year old's wardrobe. She'd wanted to wear them to school, a little something to set her apart from the other students in their dull grey uniforms. But they had been priced at $24.99, a little too much given their current financial situation, and she had told her daughter to put them back. Then she had taken out her phone with intention of calling Charlie, to see how things had gone with the new catalogue, when she'd heard those words.

My Other Mother would get them...

"Maybe she should buy all your clothes," Mel had snapped her daughter, without thinking. Typical response from a stressed out, overworked parent to a moderately spoiled child. In hindsight, she should have bit her tongue.

But there is no 'Other Mother', she had thought at the time. There was no evil entity preying on her daughter's petty, selfish desires. She could always make it up to her later; after all, Mel didn't buy things for her daughter that often, and usually nothing unreasonably expensive. Nothing to worry about.

The trip home hadn't done her much better. Coraline once again brought up the subject of her strange dreams, and without Charlie around, Mel found she could not simply ignore her this time.

"So, what do you think is in the other apartment?" She had asked.

"I don't know..." Mel answered honestly. "...not a family of Jones imposters." She'd added, more to reassure herself than anything else.

"Then why'd you lock the door?"

"Oh...!" Mel thought up an excuse fast. "I... found some rat crap back there." She paused. "And I thought you'd feel... safer."

"They're jumping mice, mom," Coraline corrected. "...and the dreams aren't dangerous. They're the most fun I've had since we've moved here!"

Coraline didn't notice, but Mel was becoming increasingly uneasy from their conversation.

"Your school might be fun-" she suggested weakly.

"-with those stupid uniforms? Right," her daughter countered.

"Had to give it a try..." Mel responded, thinking aloud.

When they had gotten home, Mel found that her kitchen was practically empty, and she had no choice but to go food shopping. With reservations about leaving Coraline home alone, she had invited her to come along, with the incentive that she could pick out something she wanted for a change.

"Oh. Like the gloves...?"

That had been her response, clearly indicating that she didn't want to go, and that she was as skeptical of her mother's generosity as Mel had been about the strange occurences that had supposedly taken place in the house. There's was no point in arguing about it. Mel had promised to make it up to her; it was all she could do, besides remaining in firm denial of what the landlady had told her.


What had happened after was... confusing. Mel had gotten sidetracked from food shopping when she received a phone call from Charlie; their employers had been more than pleased with the new catalogue, and thus, they were already well on the road to financial recovery. Mel had immediately rushed off to pick up her husband, deciding they could always go out for pizza for the night and she could handle food shopping tomorrow. On the way back, she made brief stop at the clothes store from earlier to snap up the gloves Coraline had admired during their previous visit, intent on keeping a promise to her daughter for once.

When they arrived at home, she was relieved to find that her daughter was still their; in the back of her mind, Mel Jones had a strange feeling of foreboding, that when she returned, Coraline would be gone, but her worries had turned out to be for nothing. However, the way Coraline greeted them when they returned was... surprising.

At the sight of them, she had thrown her arms about her parents necks and declared how much she'd missed them, as though hadn't seen them in days. At that point, Mel had looked into the sitting room and noticed a few unusual things; first, her favorite snow globe, the one they'd gotten at the Detroit Zoo two years ago was smashed, glass fragments scattered about the floor below the mantle. Second, was the state of Coraline herself; Coraline was in her pajamas, a leather belt tied about her waist, and wearing a black vest and her sneakers. She was also covered in cobwebs, and the leg of her pajamas was torn, revealing a cut on her knee that was still bleeding. Mel hadn't given much thought to it; she was simply happy that everything had worked out
and that her fears and turned out to be for nothing, or so it seemed.

For a while after, things seemed to be going well. Their financial worries had been eased somewhat, Coraline had found a new friend in that strange boy Wybie, Mrs. Lovat's grandson, and Mel had finally been able to take some more time to bond with her daughter. The two of them found entertainment in restoring the old house; while Charlie handled the electrical wiring and plumbing, Mel and Coraline tackled the painting, decorating, and much to her daughter's pleasure, the garden. Mel herself was not really into gardening (she hated dirt) but she was glad for the chance to spend time with her daughter, after they had been so distant for so long. Best of all, Coraline would make no mention of the dreams she'd had about the "Other Mother" ever again. It seemed they had finally stopped, and if so, then the danger (assuming there had ever been any) had passed.

Unfortunately, the peace didn't last.

It started about a month after they'd moved in. The nightmares. Several times, Coraline would awake in the middle of the night and run downstairs to the living room to check the little door, which was still locked tight. At first, Mel pretended not to notice. A few times, she heard Coraline talking to someone, someone Mel couldn't see. But the words she spoke in the dark sent a chill down her spine.

"You can't hurt me anymore. I freed the others. They key is gone. You said yourself that you'd die without me."

After that, Mel couldn't ignore what was happening anymore. Because the night after Coraline spoke those words to the little door, her daughter wouldn't just wake up in the middle of the night. She'd wake up screaming. The first time, Mel had rushed into her daughter's bedroom (Charlie slept like a rock) and found Coraline sitting up in bed, eyes wide with fear, pale as a ghost and her pajamas soaked through with sweat. Mel had asked her what had happened. "Just a nightmare" was the response she received.

But it was obvious that Coraline was experiencing much more than 'just nightmares'. Each night, she would awaken screaming, as though she had woken up to find someone standing over her with a knife. Mel Jones was getting calls from school, complaints from less-than-compassionate teachers that Coraline was falling asleep in class, fainting in the hallways, and (more importantly, according to them) not doing assignments or turning in homework. Mel was becoming increasingly concerned, and all her old fears had started to come back. She had tried talking to Coraline, tried to convince her to open up, to no avail. If what she suspected was true, then Coraline was reluctant to tell her mother anything for fear of being thought insane, or that she was only pretending.

Mel considered the possibility of moving again, but that simply was not an option; they'd been lucky enough to find a new job and a house after the catalogue they'd worked for before had closed down, and they were unlikely to get lucky a second time. Mel had a strong feeling that the only way to fix this was take the problem head-on, but it didn't help when she wasn't even certain what the problem really was; Mrs. Lovat couldn't offer them any help either, aside from another warning.

"I believe your daughter has aroused the ire of something that is not meant to be crossed. I'm not certain what it is, what it wants, or where it came from. All I can suggest is that you leave. Get as far away from this place as possible, and you may very well save your daughter's life. I can't offer you anything more." And that was that. Mrs. Lovat would not evict them, understanding their situation, only presenting them with a choice: Risk everything to ensure Coraline's safety, or risk their daughter for their jobs and their home, and their lifestyle. Mel was internally torn; her skeptical side once again tried to tell her that it was all in her head, that she was once again being paranoid, and that there was nothing to worry about. But the other part of her, that which was governed by motherly instinct, told her that she should put as much distance between her family and this house as possible, if that would even be enough.

In the end, it didn't matter. She never had the chance to make that decision.

She'd woken up one morning with the intention of bringing both Charlie and Coraline down to the kitchen to talk it over, to share her concerns with her husband and discuss their options. All she needed to do was confront Coraline with what she knew, and get her to open up; Charlie was a bit more open-minded than his wife, he would be easy enough to convince once he heard what they both had to say.

But when Mel had gone into her daughter's room that morning to wake her, she wasn't there. Vanished without a trace. Her room was undisturbed, everything exactly the way she had left it the previous night, nothing missing to suggest that she had run away, no signs of intrusion or a struggle to indicate that she had been kidnapped. She was simply gone.

She did everything she could think off. She notified the police. She put up fliers. She joined the police in combing up and down the countryside, looking for her child.

Then she checked the little door in the living room.

It was unlocked. But there was nothing on the other side. Only a brick wall, same as before. The key was missing from the spot she'd hung it in the kitchen.

It was very clear at that point just what had happened, the only question was how. But Mel didn't want to believe it. It was easier to believe that Coraline had run away, or had been kidnapped for ransom by some cutthroat. Believing such would mean there was a chance, however slim, that her daughter could be found. That she would come home. And so Mel Jones remained in denial. She would remain in denial for two years, before it became clear.

Coraline would come back. But not on her own. If Mel wanted her back, then she would have to be willing to believe anything - and do anything - to bring her home.

And that's exactly what she was going to do.


Up next: Chapter 2, Starting Block...

AN: Minor update. Chapter 6 is still in-progress as of 12/17/2012, but close to completion, at which I'll be ready to upload and edit it before I post it. I'm also going through the previous chapters to correct a few errors; I noticed a few minor screw-ups when re-reading these.