GoldMary3: I think that you get it by now. I don't own Arty, (Starts Crying) Butler, Holly, or any other Artemis Fowl characters. However, I do own Rosanna, Kaydon, Serpellon, and any other characters I decide to put into this story in the future. (Still crying over the fact that I don't own Arty and co.)
A/N: This plot, it isn't mine. In fact, a whole different person gave me this idea. Let's give a round of applause to the one and only: GOAT KING!!!!! Yay!!
A/N: I mixed the prologue and the first chapter together, so its marked as one chapter, and I only did it because the prologue is REALLY short.
Just a Dream?
Prologue
Midnight at any home is the time when the most exciting, but horrible things happen.
Ghosts seem to come out of the walls, things jump around in the trees out back, and you can almost swear that you can hear noises and soft whispering, but there's nothing there.
Midnight is the time when all your fears come alive.
And Midnight is the time, when dreams end, and nightmares, begin.
Chapter 1
Fowl Manor
Silence filled Fowl Manor as the twelfth, and last chime of the old, antique clock faded away.
Twelve chimes. Twelve chimes, means Midnight.
The only sources of light were the faint strips of moonlight that drifted into the manor from the sliver of a moon outside.
The few shadows that the moonlight made seemed to dance about on the walls.
Somewhere, a floorboard creaked, the sound echoing in the silence.
And a figure in black crept along the halls, making his way to the second floor.
He didn't make a sound as his feet walked up the steps like a trained expert.
He was clad in black and held a small sack in his left hand.
The second floor was no bigger then the first. The Fowl family still glared down at him from their spot up on the wall.
Expensive vases, clocks, and paintings lay on desks that were pushed up against the wall, to a thief, the Fowl Manor would have made very, very rich.
But, amazingly, this young man was not after any of these treasures. No. This boy was after something even more.
He quietly opened a door that led to one of the many bedrooms in the manor.
A figure slept in the bed placed in the room.
The figure in black crept towards the bed, carefully taking something out of the sack.
The fourteen -year-old genius (for those of you who haven't guessed is Artemis Fowl) slept on comfortably, oblivious to the figure that was slowly bringing up what looked somewhat like a syringe to one of his veins in his left arm.
He slowly injected the clear liquid into Artemis' arm.
You better sleep well now, Fowl, because in the morning, everything's gonna change.
With that the figure left, leaving no trace of himself behind, except for Artemis Fowl, the II.