A D.E.A.T.H story
A Drathmave's Ever After Twilight Home story
Author's note: I debated, after a long while, about never putting another chapter of anything up here ever again. But I know I have readers, and I know I have reviews, and I know I have friends, fans, and fellow writers who read what I do, so…It's time to stop being so selfish and live once again. If I never get one review ever again, that'll be just fine. I'll keep working, until the kerosene oil runs dry. Ever single review to me it precious, from the lols to full length ones. It makes me appreciate what I do, makes me want to do it some more. So, without further ado, I give you…
A disclaimer: All of these characters but two or three are all belonging to John Murphy, the creator of stupid Sock Creatures. He makes marvelous things out of old clothing and such. Go on and check him out at: www. stupidcreatures. com. Be that as it may, this disclaimer is here to say something else (-check that sentence out.) It is here to say that I may not get these characters personalities right, but I'll try to be as spot on as I can, and scenery, background stories,- I'm doing the best I can with what resources I have. I wish there was more. There may also be some innuendos and quotes stolen from sweet 80's movies. So, like Pixar the humor will be very impropriate, but kiddies won't catch it. Hurhur. Let's get this party started, yo.
Chapther One
The Thickening
It was dark and rainy. Not just any rain, it was a cold heavy winter rain in the middle of a warm September. And a Monday, he always sent letters on Saturday night, so they'd get there Monday morning…
There was a lone figure in the rain, on a lone hill that overlooked a lonely lone building that sat in a gully away from the rest of the world. A stony drive crawled up to the entrance, which was a spiky rod iron gate, like a lace earth worm. The lone figure wondered why a nursing home would need such a gate. Such a building. It was such a scary place. The Ever After Twilight Home looked like something out of an old black-and-white movie where the bats, hung on coarse black wires shot, down at the hapless victims. The figure made its way down the hill on squat little legs, its feet leaving round impressions in the dam earth. The thing was huffing and puffing as it descended, clenching its taxi yellow raincoat to itself. When it finally made its way to the gate, it breathed; "Finally," in a young lady voice, making the figure female.
She held on to the gate, panting hard. Her car had broken down a few miles back, she had called for help but there was no service way out here. So tried to push it off the road a little bit, and headed off herself. That clearly was a mistake, as now it was dark and visiting hours were over. She was cutting it close to start with, sitting by the mail box, waiting. Waiting for a letter that never came…
And she was gunna find out why. She caught her breath sharply, cursing at herself mentally for never taking gym class seriously. The rod-iron gate was pad-locked, and next to the massive pad-lock was an old wooden sign, the writing slightly faded from time and weather, also hung up with a chain. It gave a bleary greeting and the times.
"Welcome to Drathmave's Ever After Twilight Home," The sign said in a sad faded letters, and then it had the times for visiting hours, "Monday-Friday 10:00 Am – 6 Pm, Saturday 9:00 Am-10:00 Pm, Sunday 8:00 Am- 5 Pm."
By her guesstimation, it must have been at least around seven out. She sighed harshly and rattled the gate again…Maybe she should just come back tomorrow. She lowered her hooded head in thought and slight despair. But a little voice in her head whispered, 'You got this far already, and are you really going to be able to walk back to your car? Your run down car? What about the coyots, the cyotes will get you."
She lifted up her head and nodded-determination rekindled in her simple black eyes. They were heavy hooded, like everyone else in her family, making them all look wise but simple. Like a very old farmer. Rubbing her hands together, she took a step back and went at the gate with a flying leap.
She grasped a hold of the slippery bars with her grey thin hands; they weren't hands of someone who did a lot of heavy lifting. They were hands of a three fingered bookish gal. She was only a few feet from the ground but still afraid to fall. She climbed up the best she could, struggling at each grip and at each step, but she made it, oh gosh, did she make it, up and over the gate. The lass landed ungracefully, her hands and knees covered in mud. She stood up and made a disgusted noise, trying to wipe her hands off on her raincoat. This just made her look even messier. With a sigh, she mentally shrugged it off and trudged up the rest of the path to the nursing home.
With the security cams watching her every step of the way.
Her stubby feet prodded up like steps, only three of them, grey as cinderblocks and about the same material too. She swallowed hard. She suddenly felt…scared. But why should she be scared? It was just a nursing home, after all. She forced herself to bring a muddy fist to the door and knock, leaving little dirt marks in her fist's wake.
And she waited…
When no one came, she tried the knocker, covering that in mud too.
And waited.
When no one showed up to answer the door, she tried the handle, which was ordinate and looked as though it had been recently polished. So clean and smooth she could see herself in it. She pushed down on its little leaver, and the door gave.
It was open.
Hesitantly, she held the door just where it was, open but not opening to anywhere. She stomped her feet a bit for some moral support, and opened the door up just enough to slip in. Warm yellow light from the inside poured out into the dark. She slipped in, and closed the door behind her.