Thanks very much to D4rk Sid3 to introducing me to "Lenore, the Cute Little Dead Girl". In not 24 hours I became semi-healthily obsessed; in his words "I have opened a dark portal…". Open you did, and everyone else has him to thank for the creation of this fanfic.
"Lenore? …Lenore?"
Thunder boomed again as Ragamuffin searched the house for his sort-of-owner and friend. There was a pleasant, hazardous rainstorm overseeing yet another lovely day in the wholesome town of Evermore; just this morning Lenore mentioned she'd seen Kitty number ninety-twelve becoming acquainted with Taxidermy, she assumed they were hitting it off because she hadn't seen him in quite some time. When Ragamuffin mentioned there was no such thing as ninety-twelve, Lenore had stuck her tongue out at him and in a huff said she'd be out looking for weird bugs, since the ones in her collection weren't as fun as or interesting as they used to be. Most of them had even fallen asleep face-up at the bottom of their jars.
Another clap of thunder rattled every loose object in their large, dreary home. Rain was well at work pelting the windows and poorly-shingled roof, and thanks to the draft an eerie wind was blowing a catchy tune throughout the hallways. The bleak, darkened forest nearby seemed to ache in the breeze. Ragamuffin ignored it and continued his search for Lenore. He'd already inspected the woods, much to his disgust; he was now drenched through his fabric right to his bacon entrails, as well as stained on the complete front half, after a stumble into a cold and very chunky mud hole. The petulant walk home had washed off most of it to his cottony ankles. After investigating the entire first story, basement (something was growing down there, he was sure of it, and it'd probably try to eat them in their sleep, but he disregarded it for later), kitchen, and living room, he dragged his soggy self up the stairs to check in her room.
Down the hall he could spot earlier traces of Lenore, quite typical for your average, sweet, 10 year-old pneumonia victim who was actually in her early 100's; a pile of plastic dolls, all with at least two missing appendages, dipped in mustard for a reason he couldn't and really didn't want to conjecture; another kitty floating face-down in a filled bath tub; and a bloody steak—that gave him the willies for obvious reasons and he'd ask her just why the heck she'd need it given one of her tenants was a vampire, if any other blood-sucker was giving her trouble all she'd have to do was come to him. Doll or not, he'd make anybody eat their own bowels before they touched her.
Finally, after many hours of searching, he'd found her kneeling on the floor in her room. An audible, relieved, and exhausted sigh escaped his mouth. She turned, but went back to whatever she'd been looking at.
"There you are." He said. "I been lookin' all over for you!"
"How come?" She asked.
Ragamuffin opened his mouth…then stopped. "I uh…uh…" He cursed.
"I forgot."
"That's nice."
He walked over to examine what she was so interested in. What he saw needless to say surprised him. In her hands was an old portrait with a tarnished brass frame. It was a black and white photograph of a seemingly joyous family: in it was a sitting, smiling woman, with her hands on her daughter's shoulders, a standing, prideful man with an arm draped around his wife, and an all-too familiar girl standing with her hands folded neatly in front of her. They all looked so happy.
"That your family?" He asked.
"Yeah…mommy sure looked upset when she saw me at the funeral. But then she turned a neat shade of green when she saw me walking up to her, and then for some reason she threw up. I think it was in the shape of a pony, or maybe a dead leprechaun."
"…Ok…"
"Where's your family?" Lenore asked, finally tearing her gaze from the picture with a newfound curiosity.
She saw him get a distant look on his plastic-eyed face.
Flashback…
"Oh, just wait 'til you meet him!" A bustling woman chattered as she set a large table. At which about half a dozen people sat. It was a small house, furnished to the bare basics, a roaring fire reached around the bottom of a heavy cauldron on a spit, something that smelled of beef bubbled inside. At the left edge of the long wood table was a man with dark hair and a mustache, on the opposite side of him were an unenthusiastic couple utterly ignoring their two rambunctious kids who were screaming and pulling at each other's hair, prodding each other with their silverware, a large woman with her dark hair pulled up was adding steamy dishes of baked, boiled and preserved goods to the table. A large celebration was to be held, and it had to do with that young woman who was sitting on the farthest end of the table, away from the door and coincidentally in full-view of any person who'd walk in.
"He's so behaved." The large, eager woman smiled.
"Handsome too." The man with the mustache chuckled.
"Lewis! Stop stabbing your brother!" The mother of the bustling children demanded. Her husband sighed.
"When is our cousin getting here Aunty?"
"Any moment, I sent him on a false errand into town. Giving me just enough time to sneak you in, my dear." She winked at the young lady, who giggled.
The door swung open, letting in a gust of air, the mere climate of it enough to deflate the candles had the wind already not been so fierce. Every occupant glanced up; the married couple was nearly bowled over by the unexpected gale, the children stopped squabbling and stared up, mouths agape, the mother, father, and lady merely turned their smiling gazes to the opened door.
"Son, you're here!" The man greeted.
Inside the doorway a young man stood, somewhat hunched over. He remained in the shadows.
"We have somebody for you to meet." His mother, the heavyset woman beamed. She motioned to the end of the table.
"Dear, this is Lucinda."
The female guest stood up, blushing, the moonlight accentuating her features for the first time: her large, crooked nose; her gaping, yellowed smile; her hair, which coincidentally a mouse crawled out of that moment, as if sensing the ominous atmosphere; stringy lashes; and an all-too-eager-to-meet-you air about herself.
His parents kept on smiling. "She's the daughter of a VERY well-to-do family in a village nearby." His mother proclaimed.
"Yes and wouldn't it be lovely if you two were to be…familiars." His father added.
"What're you crazy?" The man of the married couple intervened. "She's absolutely dis-" His wife clapped a hand around his mouth. The kids continued to stare on.
Their son did not react. He merely stood there.
…It began to become unsettling in the household, so the silent man's mother decided to break the tension.
"Well, if you've completed your day, would you care to sit down a moment? Rest, get to know Lucinda." She smiled.
"Precisely. Aren't you hungry?"
"Yes…" Their son finally spoke.
This seemed to appease the man, woman, and supposed fiancé, the other family just sat there, astounded, and ill at ease.
"Now if that's settled, how 'bout we-"
The woman couldn't finish as her head was split in two from the back. Behind her, her son was seen munching on her brains. Her niece screamed as her children raced to hide in the kitchen cabinets, her husband standing behind her for protection. The woman had actually fell on the table and her remaining brains were leaking into the garlic potatoes. Her son leaned over, mouth agape, when he had finished his handfuls, but immediately recoiled with a hiss at one whiff of the entrée.
The mustache man rose from his chair.
"See here son, what's this all abo-"
He was skewered through the heart. His cousins continued to shriek in terror as he ardently devoured his father's entrails. Next were the oh-so-happy couple, who were too frozen in fear to put up much of a fight anyway. Their limbs were dipped into the beefy mixture over the pot and scarfed down in a cinch. Kids? Easy meal, barely two mouthfuls, and not that hard to find once he heard the cookery rattling inside their hiding place. Last was his never-to-be wife, who shivered in fear in a nearby corner, too stupid to flee out the back door.
"Who…what are you? I-I don't even know your name and you show up as this monster." She trembled.
He grew a sadistic smile.
"Ragamuffin."
"You were engaged to be engaged?" Lenore inquired. "Ooh…was there cake?"
Ragamuffin shuddered.
"No there wasn't any cake! There wasn't even a real wedding!"
"Aww, I like cake."
He sighed.
"I wonder if they had eyeball flavor back then, I bet a kitty would look so great on top of it."
"300 years after that I terrorized the city as it changed through the ages, and then the whole doll thing happened and after another 100 later I was revived by you."
"Wanna go play dollies?" She asked, completely devoid of the "wedding" topic.
"I have a choice?" His eyelids lowered. Lenore whisked him off to some imaginary tea party before he could say anything else.