So I caught the writing bug but didn't feel like working on my next chapter. Decided to take a break and this came out of my head.

MATILDA THE MUSICAL IS AWESOME!

I will admit that when I first saw this bit of the show, I thought it was a very confusing scene. Now that I've seen it a few times (with Milly, Bailey, and Oona), I think it's brilliant. I grew up adoring the book upon which this musical was based. It was my favorite of all time. And I think this musical is tied for first place in my list of favorites (Wicked is the other favorite). It's a wonderful show and if you're ever given a chance to see it, go see it! And read the book! The book is a work of genius! I mean the movie is okay but the book? Completely brilliant.

I wrote this with dialogue from the show (it's almost word for word). Song lyrics are written in italics. To anyone unfamiliar with the show, all you need to know is that the story of the escapologist and the acrobat mentioned is a retelling of Miss Honey's story from the book and the movie. Matilda mentions in her story that the acrobat gives the escapologist a shiny white scarf just before she dies, a detail that plays into this scene as well.

My House

"There's a newt in my knickers!"

The cry of a woman in distress ordinarily might have caught my attention. After all, it's not every day a someone has an amphibian in their knickers. But I couldn't bring myself to care too much. It wasn't so much my hatred for the Trunchbull that drove me to indifference. It was... well, I suppose you could call it surprise and awe at my own abilities. Abilities I didn't know I had. I had tuned out her shouting, tuned out her flailing around and chasing the kids about the room and then... then I suddenly moved the cup with my eyes.

I was hardly paying attention when Miss Honey sent the kids out to play. But then I found the room actually quiet and I snapped out of my reverie. I hurried over to the table and picked up the cup. Was this a one-time thing? Could I possibly do this again?

"Watch!" I called over Miss Honey's voice. "Watch, please!"

Miss Honey stopped speaking and stepped forward. I suppose something about my demeanor or my voice, excited but not altogether happy, made her pause. She walked over to the table as I fixed my eyes on the cup.

Suddenly, I felt the hotness behind my eyes once more. It was like tiny hands were shooting out of my eyes, pressing on the cup the tiniest bit... and then a bit more... and then... it tipped.

I looked up at Miss Honey, feeling even calmer than I had moments before. She stared at the cup, open mouthed.

"I moved it with my eyes." I said in monotone. "Am I strange?"

Miss Honey stared at me a few seconds longer. "I think..." she said, her hands twitching a bit almost like she wanted to do something but had no idea what. "How would you fancy a nice cup of tea?"

I walked over to her, my head still reeling with my out-of-control thoughts yet oddly silent at the same time. Sort of like I had pushed out that frustration, that anger, the noise in my head... pushed it out of my eyes and into the cup. Made it tip over using only my frustration with the world.

I hardly noticed Miss Honey retrieve my coat and put it over my shoulders. As she buttoned it, she looked me in the eye.

"What do you think it is?" I asked. "This thing with my eyes?"

Miss Honey is a teacher, I reasoned, so of course she had to know the answer. Wasn't that a teacher's job? To know things?

"I'm not going to pretend I know what it is, Matilda." Miss Honey said, her eyes focused on the stubborn buttons on the coat. "I don't believe it's something I should be frightened of." she finally looked into my eyes. "I think it's something to do with that incredible mind of yours."

"You mean there's no room in my head for all of my brains so they have to squish out through my eyes?" well, that sort of made sense... a bit...

"Not exactly." Miss Honey kept staring at me as she put her own coat over her shoulders. "Something like that." she leaned forward so that she was at eye level with me and put a hand on my shoulder. "You certainly are a special girl, Matilda." she paused for a moment, her mind still whizzing with thoughts. She finally settled on one. "I, uhh... I met your mother. She's... unusual. What about your father? Is he... is he proud to have a daughter as clever as you?"

We began to walk down the path to a nearby wood. I gave her question some thought. There was something so comforting about Miss Honey... but then again, there was also something comforting about lying to myself as well as to others.

"Oh... yes, he is very proud. He is very, very, very, very proud. He's always saying, 'Matilda, I'm so very proud to have a daughter as...'" my mouth opened to form the next syllable but my voice died in my throat. My heart began to pound again. I was lying. It wasn't the first time... but this felt different. Miss Honey had always treated me with such kindness and expected nothing in return. Unlike Mrs. Phelps, who I liked very, very much, she was far more genuine, somehow. Not as much in awe of me but more... more seeing me as an equal, almost. For that reason, I couldn't keep up the charade any longer. "That's not true, Miss Honey." I said wearily. "He's not proud at all. He calls me a liar and a cheat and a nasty little creep."

Miss Honey paused for a moment. There was a deep sadness in her eyes. And not just from what I has just said. It was a sadness that had always been there. But this time it seemed to permeate her features entirely. She reached out and took my hand.

"I see." she said quietly.

We walked in silence for a few more minutes before we arrived where Miss Honey lived. A tiny cottage in the middle of the woods. Almost unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it. So tiny with whitewashed walls and weeds snaking their way up the sides. It was hauntingly beautiful.

"Here we are." she pushed open the door and allowed me in. "Home sweet home." she chuckled fondly.

The floor was made of wooden boards. In one corner was a box, in another a bed, and another a small stove atop a second box. I looked around, drinking it in for a few seconds before looking at Miss Honey once more.

"Are you poor?" I asked unabashedly, the nagging suspicion that I was being rude quashed by my curiosity.

Miss Honey smiled appreciatively. "Why yes. Yes I am. Very."

"Don't they pay teachers very much?" I had read that teachers weren't paid well but they certainly weren't paid this little, otherwise no one would be teachers at all.

"No they don't, actually." Miss Honey turned on her tiny stove and placed a kettle on top of it as she spoke. "But, uh... I am even poorer than most. Because of, uh... other reasons."

I sat down on her bed and watched her prepare the tea. The darkness rose to the surface again, more obvious now than ever. There was a story. There was always a story when it came to things like this. Only it wasn't like my circus performer story. This one was real. And it didn't' have a happy ending.

"You see, I... I used to live with my aunt. But one day I was out walking and I came across this old shed. I fell completely in love with it. I ran to the farmer and begged him to let me move in." Miss Honey chuckled again but the darkness remained. It really was an odd sensation. "He thought I was mad. But he agreed. I've lived here ever since."

She handed me a small tin of biscuits but I ignored them. "Miss Honey, you can't live in a shed!" I exclaimed.

I took a biscuit from the box and nibbled it. "I'm not strong like you, Matilda." Miss Honey raised the tin away from me very slowly, her mind still racing. "You see... my father died when I was young. Magnus was his name. He was very kind. But, uh, when he was gone, my aunt became my legal guardian. She was mean and cruel and horrible. Like you can hardly imagine." her voice shook, the pain becoming so much more evident. "But when I got my job as a teacher, she suddenly presented me with a bill for looking after me all those years. She had written everything down. Every tea bag, every electricity bill, every tin of beans. And she made me sign a contract to pay her back every penny." she shook her head sadly, though she had begun to smile again. "She even produced a document that said that my father had left her his entire house."

"But did he really do that? Magnus, I mean?" I asked as I accepted the cup of tea she handed me. "Did he really just give her his house?"

Miss Honey sat down on the box in the corner. "I don't know. But I find it hard to believe. Just like I cannot believe that he would have..." she froze, her hands clutching the mug of tea. She took a few deep breaths, the smile finally melting from her face. "That he would have killed himself. Which is what she said happened." she took a sip of tea, her shoulders tense.

"You think... you think she did him in, don't you, Miss Honey?" I asked, the pieces clicking together in my brain.

She turned to look at me, shaking her head the tiniest bit. "I cannot say. All I know is that years of being bullied by that woman made me..." her voice shook more than ever and it seemed like she was about to cry. "Well... pathetic." a tear slipped down her cheek. "I was trapped."

"That's why you live here." I said.

"This roof keeps me dry when the rain falls. This door helps to keep the cold at bay. On this floor I can stand on my own two feet." she gestured to the box with a sad smile. "On this chair, I can write my lessons. On this pillow I can dream my nights away. And this table, as you can see, well, it's perfect for tea." she held up her mug. "It isn't much but it is enough for me." she put a hand on her heart. "It isn't much but it is enough..." she paused.

"But Miss Honey, she's got your old house!" I exclaimed, standing up and sitting beside her. "She's got everything that's yours!"

Miss Honey put an arm around me. "On these walls, I hang wonderful pictures. Through this window I can watch the seasons change. By this lamp, I can read! And I... I am set free." she hugged me closer and I placed my head on her shoulder, feeling almost completely safe for the first time in my life. "And when it's cold outside, I feel no fear even in the winter storms, I am warmed by this small but stubborn fire. And there is nowhere I would rather be. It isn't much, but it is enough for me." she put her mug of tea down behind the box, and stood up, tears filling her eyes. "For this is my house. This is my house! It isn't much, but it is enough for me." she got on her knees next to a third box I hadn't noticed before. "This is my house. This is my house!" she got out a silver scarf, holding it close to her as I walked over and got on my knees behind her. "It isn't much but it is enough..." she placed the scarf around my neck.

I took a deep breath, wanting so desperately to wipe her tears away but feeling rather overwhelmed. "Don't cry. Please don't cry, I am here. Please don't cry, let me wipe away your tears."

"And when it's cold and bleak, I feel no fear even in the fiercest storms, I am warmed by this small and stubborn fire." she continued as she sat back, almost like she was admiring her handiwork. "Even when outside it's freezing, I don't pay much heed. I know that everything I need, it is in here." tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her shaking hand resting on her heart once more. "It isn't much but it is enough for me." she stood up and walked over to the box upon which we had sat minutes ago, wiping her tears. She picked up her tea and sat down. "It isn't much but it is enough for me."

As she sat, sipping her tea, I continued to stare at the scarf. The shiny white scarf... that the acrobat always wore... "Miss Honey, is this your father's scarf?" I asked, my heart racing against my ribcage.

Miss Honey continued to wipe her tears. "Yes, yes it is. My mother gave it to him before she died, you see she was-"

"An acrobat." I said, my fingers running over the scarf almost fearfully.

"Yes. Yes she was. And my father was-"

"An escapologist!" I turned to look at her, my eyes wide with shock.

Miss Honey put down the mug of tea once more. "Matilda, how did you know that?"

"So... so they were your parents?" I asked incredulously.

"What? Who?"

"The people in my story!"

"What story?"

"A story! I've been telling a story and I thought I was making it up but it's real, it's your life, I've seen your life!"

Miss Honey looked frightened. "My life?"

I took off the scarf, feeling like I was going to cry and scream at the same time... but somehow unable to do either. "She did him in! Let's go to the police!"

I grabbed her hand and tried to tug her through the door but she scurried over to the other side of the room, pulling against my grip.

"What? No, no, we can't, we have no evidence!" she cried, her hands shaking.

"We need to tell them! Tell them she did it!" I shouted, pulling as hard as I could toward the door again. Why wouldn't she come? Why was she so afraid?

"No! That wouldn't work, Matilda, they'd never believe she was capable of murder!" Miss Honey let go of my hands, the darkness in her eyes replaced with terror.

"But why? She was so cruel to you! She beat you! She shouted at you! She locked you up inside a cellar!"

Miss Honey put her hands over her ears, falling to her knees almost like she was trying to drown out my voice. "Matilda, please..."

"Miss Honey, your aunt's a murderer, she killed Magnus! Who is she?"

Suddenly, the answer hit me. The aunt in my story. Who used to be an Olympic class hammer thrower... the woman who used to scare the children of the town... a contract is a contract is a contract! But no... it couldn't be? Dear, sweet Miss Honey related to a monster like that? My whole body trembled as I uttered the name of the last person I would ever expect to associate with Miss Honey... yet the only person who made sense. My voice wouldn't come at first... and then I said the words I feared the most.

"Miss Trunchbull!"

I really hope you enjoyed this impulse fic! I don't think I'll ever stop writing about Matilda. It was my very first favorite book and will always remain one of my favorites, if not my all time favorite. It is truly a brilliant story that I simply cannot do justice through fan fiction. Please go read it yourself! You have no excuse, I went to the library near my house and found FIVE copies of it so it's all over the place! And go see the show! I'm told the Newtildas are great! And the show will start touring America in 2015 as well as come to Australia! So most of you have no excuse not to see it at least once.

And fun Easter egg for readers of my other work: a variation of the escapologist and acrobat story will make its way into the sequel to Stowaway! So keep on reading!

~KateMarie999