A/N: Screw my other story, I have writer's block. Maybe if I can actually get my act together I can continue it. But today I was picking daisies and thought of this plot.
I think of the best plots doing the weirdest of things… At least I think so. The whole plot for my last story came to me when I was eating hot fries while picking at my carpet.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, my awesome readers.
Chapter 1- Squeaky
The house was huge. Monstrous. The porch looked like a mouth about to eat me, trying to discourage me from delving into it. Not that I wanted to, anyway. Father had made us move from our tiny apartment in Dallas to this bleak, burning wasteland in Nevada. Anything for his new wife. Anything for my new 'Mama'.
Father's heart had been stolen (not that it was hard to steal; Papa was a huge man whore) by a racy stripper by the name of Blair. Father was convinced he was madly in love with the huge breasted woman. Her gold eyes seemed to be the world to him, to hold the secrets to the universe.
I knew from the beginning that she was trouble. And now I'm yanked up from the place I've been living for my whole life because she wanted a place away from the cars, the people. So now I have the joy of moving into a huge abandoned house in the middle of freaking nowhere, all because Dallas didn't suit his precious Blair. I hope there isn't a liquor store for miles.
I walked up the daunting stairs slowly, listening to the creaks and unhealthy cracking sounds that the ancient foundation made. I held my two suitcases a bit tighter in a dull fear of the old wood, already imagining myself falling through and not being able to get out. By the time I made it up the stairs, my palms were so sweaty that only pure determination kept me from letting my suitcases slip from my grasp. I imagined Blair falling through and smiled to myself.
"Maka, do you need me to hold anything for you?" Papa asked, as he stepped up the stairs swiftly. I didn't respond verbally, but I think the way my eyes were squinting tipped him off. He unlocked the door and pushed it open roughly so I could get through. My arms were about to fall off, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
The house was bare. I plopped my luggage onto the middle of the main floor, not caring about what happened to it. What I really wanted to do was find a room I could call mine. Our apartment was so small that Papa got the main room and I slept on the couch most of the time, so I was counting on getting my own little space of the world. My books could finally get the proper room and respect they deserved once I got a bookshelf. And then I could get a lamp, and have drawers and a dresser…
I ran around the place with reckless abandon, sliding across the wood floors, racing up the stairs. There seemed to be doors everywhere. Maybe this was an old hotel or something, way back when souls inhabited this space and the vegetation was surrounding it instead of engulfing it. I started opening doors, looking over all the rooms before hurrying to the next.
Too small.
Too big.
It doesn't have any windows.
This one doesn't even have any lights.
No closet.
Smells strange.
There's huge hole in the wall.
And on my surveying went. I went through them quickly but thorough, making sure I had a reason for not liking them instead of just not liking it. After the twelfth room, I finally found one that wasn't too cramped, had a light with a fan, didn't have any suspicious stains anywhere, smelled fine, had a window, had a closet, and didn't have any holes in the wall. Unlucky thirteen, but it was nevertheless my personal favorite of the many rooms. I left the door open to remind myself which room it was in case I forgot by the time I came back with my stuff.
Father, by this time, had taken all of Blair's things inside and was looking around the house also. I got my stuff and yelled a quick "Found my room" to him and disappeared around the corner before he could take his eyes off of Blair and reply. There was already a dresser in there, and I was going to jam pack it with my clothes. Not that I had much- most of the stuff in my suitcases were in fact books.
I closed the door to the –my! - room. Oh, thank god, the thing had a lock. I never really had a reason to use a lock, but it was always comforting to have one. Made me feel a bit safer. Luckily, this room had a small twin sized bed that I could sleep on until we got a new one in. I sat down on it, hoping it didn't squeak like virtually everything else in this house. Of course, it did. Sighing, I laid down onto the soft covers, making the bed complain and squeak some more. The day crashed down on me, and suddenly my eyelids were screaming to be closed. It was like the Sandman had just waved his wand at me, telling me to hit up Dreamland.
My eyes fluttered a bit, trying to fight it off. I put my arm under the pillow, admitting defeat.
The black waters of sleep pulled me under.
-_-_-_-
There were children. A lot of them. All gathered in a circle, hand in hand, holding some small, worn book. The child wearing blue, a boy, stepped out of the circle into the middle and started to say something I couldn't make out. He was reading from a book, scrutinizing the words as if he wasn't exactly sure how to say them.
The circle moved clockwise. The boy read out the words stronger this time.
The small blonde girl threw petals of flowers into the air.
The air shimmered. The flower petals rose from the ground to engulf the children. The last thing I saw was the small blonde girl smiling broadly, taking someone's hand.
And then they disappeared. All of them.
The book was left on the ground, abandoned by the kids, pages laid out flat.
It shut itself.
I woke up dazed. My eyes still felt heavy, but the sunlight streaming through the window informed me that the day was going by without me. I groaned a little bit, rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out of them. Mornings weren't exactly my strong suit, but I wasn't like others who couldn't step one foot out of bed without coffee or outside forces. Newton's Law, my friend liked to say, applied to people as well. "All objects at rest will stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force."
I changed out of the clothes I had slept in to a simple plaid skirt and a yellow cardigan. Nevada was so hot I could go outside naked comfortably. I reached up to turn on the light on my fan and noticed a small cord from the ceiling I hadn't seen before. I pulled lightly on the cord, curious to see what it did.
A little stairway came down from the opening, leading to the attic. A musty, dry smell whooshed in from where the opening was. My eyes widened. Well, that was unexpected.
I put one foot on the staircase, testing if it could truly hold my weight. It creaked like everything else, but otherwise seemed fine. I put all of my body weight on it and it still held, so I climbed up.
The place was black as pitch. I pulled out my phone for some temporary light before I stumbled all over myself. The light pointed at the ground to reveal something directly in my path.
It was a book.
A/N: Epic face, epic face, epic face, epic face, JIZZ IN MY PANTS.
So yeah. Listening to Vocaloids, chilling on my bed, yawning like crazy, writing at two in the morning. Sounds like old times. I don't have homework this weekend (THANK JESUS) but I do have music I need to be practicing since I made the All-City band. Meh… It means I'm good at my instrument, but now I need to learn all this new music.
I'm not going to be all "LEAVE A REVIEW OR DIE" for this story since that would be rude to you guys and I'm trying be a bit more relaxed. But if you read it and liked it (or hell, didn't like it, flames are used to toast marshmallows) please drop a review. It really boosts an author's confidence.
Glad to be back, guys.
- Nicole, the school juggling complete sloth who has a bit of writing talent