Author's note: Sequel! It's has been forever since I've written for fun so I've decided to write a sequel to one of my stories. And this takes place in the past.
Warning: if you haven't read my first Lazytown fic, I suggest you do, otherwise you might not understand this. It's called "When Pink Turns Green It Needs Yellow".
In a small town, just across the sea from Lazy Town, it was late at night. The town's many restaurants had locked up; the town hall was quiet, ice cream and roasted nut stands had closed up. The town's houses were dark and the streets were empty and completely dark apart from the street lights. The townspeople were recovering from a horrific event that had just taken place. Less than three hours ago, the streets were flooded with people. There had been police cars and ambulance trucks everywhere. There were people clamoring and reporters questioning all the people on the streets. Asking: What happened? How could this have happened? Why didn't someone help? All questions people were not in the mood or willing to answer. The only person in the entire town who could answer was a six year old little girl. As soon as everyone had realized what had happened, she ran as fast as she could to her house.
Her room was dark. The vibrant pink striped carpet that usually lit up in the room was shown as a dull orange from the street light shining from the window. Her closet had a mirror in front off it. The girl looked into it; she didn't like what she saw. Her bed was filled with toys; dolls, balls, jump rope and a little flashlight.
The girl flung them all off the bed. She didn't even care that her parents were asleep next door. She jumped into bed and buried her face in the dark pink (though in the light it was a dirty red) pillow. She pulled her face from the pillow and it had spots of water all over it. Her pink hair stuck up on her head and strands of it stuck to her face. She crept to the edge of her bed then quickly shielded her eyes. A dull gleam from the latch of an invisible trunk had shocked her. She unlatched the trunk and fumbled around in it. She pulled out a small pink book then reached for the floor and picked up the flashlight and a pencil. She crawled back to the head of her bed and opened the book on her pillow. She turned on the flashlight and held it over her with her left hand and wrote with her right.
The book was a gift from a friend. Her friend told her, she used one so she would have someone to tell things to when she couldn't tell anyone. Not even a close friend. The day she had had gone by so quickly. She couldn't even remember half things she did before...
So all she wrote in the book was:
"Dear diary,
Hi. My name is Stephanie. This is the first time I've ever written in a diary... and I have a story to tell."
Ptwista: This is goin' somewhere. I know it! What do you think? Read and review!