Alright. xD This is the first story I've putten up on this website before - and it's a Horton Hears a Who fic. XD Yeahs 8D Lawls... Also, don't be fooled by the description, you Jojo-fans - this story will feature plenty of him, dontcha worry. 8D He's VERY important to the plot x3 Anywho... I really hope you enjoy! 8D I had a fun time writing this x3
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In the Who Orphanage, where the light would not shine
And all the Who children would look at the time
Look at the time and wonder when -
Wonder when their parents would ever, ever come for them.
They were told that they might
Oh, they might; Oh, they might
But this was not certain
and this thought made the little Whos shut the curtain
The chance that a parent might actually come
Was 91 trillion and 700 to one.
Still, the children all played,
Frolicking and skipping to the end of the day.
At least most of them did, except one that did not.
This one that did not, oh, she wasn't quite right
She was different from the others, and rather uptight.
She'd sit in her corner, not saying a word.
Not even a mutter - how she must've been bored.
She was just nearly thirteen,
But, for her age, she was, well… rather lean.
No one recalled ever seeing her eat
Perhaps she didn't want something green in teeth?
Green things aside, she'd still sit in her corner
That one little corner, where she'd sit and not murmur.
She'd sit not just quiet, but with a dull sort of pride.
Sitting, sitting, quietly deprived.
Under the dirt that mangled her fur,
Was a creamy complexion, once clear and quite pure.
Now it was crusted and dirtied and mangy,
under her long pink colored hair, that was once so very curly.
Oh, her hair; Oh her hair – it had once been quite pretty
Now, just a definition under the words 'poor, tangled, and petty'.
Still, here she sat, in her one little corner
Not minding that her body looked like someone savagely torn her.
Not minding that her beauty was gone
nor that the fact that her voice was practically in bonds.
Still, it was in this little fact, there was the irony
Despite that she never once spoke, nor carried a note
Or even sang one musical key
Her name was written, quite clearly, as 'Melody'.
000
"'T-H', Heady. 'T-H'," Ned spoke, with a gentle laugh as he lifted his youngest Who daughter into his arms, to kiss the tip of her nose.
Heady merely grinned and pointed to another new tooth that had made an appearance in her mouth, "Toof!"
"Just keep at it. You'll get it eventually," Ned laughed a bit, as he now set her back into her seat. The clock rung now, announcing that the twelve seconds had ended. This, in fact, had been the final seconds for the morning. As Heady was sent off back to her breakfast, Ned had lifted himself from the table, just as he kissed his wife along the cheek, "Alright, I'm off!"
"Er – Ned, I think we're missing someone," Sally pointed out, in a matter-of-factly tone.
Ned blinked, "Who did we miss?"
Sally pointed to the empty chair that now swung around the edge of the table, "Your only son."
Ned glanced to it, raising an eyebrow. He approached the chair and turned it around, and glanced around it, as if missing something, "Jojo? You there?"
"Over here."
Ned looked to the source of the small voice, and a goofy grin spread wide along his face from cheek to cheek, "Ah, Jojo! Morning – What's happenin?"
The small Who looked up to his father, and for a moment, there seemed to be a shadow of a smile on his lips. Ever since the 'spec' incident and the realization of their world, as well as the revealing of Jojo's love for music, Ned had practically dropped the entire 'Mayor thing' all together. Still, this didn't stop him from trying to relate to his son. Since it no longer involved speeches beginning with 'one day, when you're mayor', Jojo was perfectly fine with it. Now it only seemed to be amusing to him in the smallest of ways at how hard Ned tried.
Jojo motioned toward the exit of the kitchen, as a piece of toast was held in his mouth. In one word, after he took a bite of toast, he muttered, "Observatory."
Ned blinked. Then understood, and nodded with a grin. He did some sort of wacky salute, "Oh. Alright, Jo! So you don't want to come to work with me then and see how your old man does his job?"
He wrung his hands around his tie, in a proud tone, but Jojo simply shook his head and darted toward the door. Ned shrugged, and there was a faint smile that had graced its presence on his lips, "Worth a shot."
As Sally had watched this little scene, she had smiled herself. She was proud of her husband and how he had managed to let go of the issue of their son being mayor. At first, it had taken a bit for the shock to sink in, but now, communication between Ned and Jojo was becoming easier each day. She stood from the table, picking up her empty plate, "You should get going too."
Ned's eyes widened upon this and glanced to the clock that hung on the opposite wall, "Oh, right!" he clumsily gathered himself together and began toward the doorway, "Got a meeting with the city counsel, help plan the Whoville faire this weekend, sign and file some who-docs, and visit the Who Orphanage and talk to the kids, there – big, big day!" he laughed now, as he straightened himself up a bit and continued to the door, "Bye, honey! Bye, kids!"
All at once, a chorus of voices came up to respond to Ned.
"Bye-bye, Daddy!"
"Love you!"
"Ta, Dad!"
And so on and so forth.
With a wave, Ned hurried out the door to begin his daily assignments as mayor.
000
Melody sat in her one corner, staring at the other children here at the Who Orphanage. The other's frolicked about without a care, talking and speaking as if they were like any other Who. Not Melody. She sat alone in the corner of the room, watching with her wide white eyes. Yes, white – because of this strange color, most thought she was blind. Well, they weren't far from the truth. On her last visit to the doctor, she was diagnosed with progressive blindness. Over a slow period of time, she would eventually lose all sight and vision in her eyes. To this news, she held no reaction, but only kept her mouth shut as she always would. It was no different from the news she heard from the appointment before that, and the one before.
This young little Who had been diagnosed with a number of diseases that would issue her death in no more then ten years. Still, Melody would not speak or show any sign of caring. She had heard it all before, and she could easily name off each disease that she held in her head: leukemia, tuberculosis, severe insomnia, and a tumor positioned in her throat.
Starting from beginning to end, the leukemia was mild, but still present. She knew very well that she held a few of its symptoms. It explained the infrequent jerks of pain in her joints, the headaches, and tendency to bleed or bruise easily. As for tuberculosis, it was a tad more noticeable. She frequently coughed up blood, and held common fevers. It too explained why she never quite held an appetite, as well. The most severe diagnosis, however, was her insomnia. It had become to the point where she practically could not sleep at all. Whenever night would come along, Melody could always be found wandering around the orphanage in an attempt to occupy herself. It was the last one that did not seem to affect her either way. Despite the fact the tumor was present in her throat; her voice would not be affected, unless it was used. With each use, she was told; her voice would eventually be gone all together. It was either that, or surgery. However, the orphanage would not cover the payment, and so she was trapped.
Melody was trapped in this silent world of hers, slowing dieing away.
"Did you hear?" spoke one little Who boy.
Lifting her head, Melody had glanced to the direction of the boy. With her vision, he merely looked like a blurry blob, but somehow, she was able to make out a tone of creamy blue fur, and a mop of navy hair atop his head. Rather then his looks, though, she more focused on his voice. From the tone of it, it sounded like Dash, one of the younger Whos that lived here.
"You mean about the Mayor?" spoke another; this one, female. Melody squinted her eyes in order to see the blurs of pink fur; Lola, "Yeah. I know. He's coming to visit us, isn't he?"
There was a pause, and Melody imagined that Dash had nodded, "Yup. The one that helped save us! One of the greats!"
That line was used more and more often as of late. One of the Greats… Since their world had been saved from boiling in a pot of muck, that's what the Mayor had been referred to; not just 'the mayor' anymore. Melody had recalled how he once been referred to as a babbling idiot and a boob. Now it was as if those names never existed. He and his son were the new big things that Whoville had to offer, and they never failed to make their way into conversation here at the Who Orphanage. Now, that the Mayor was visiting, however, they jumped frequently into practically every other sentence. This was sheer proof of it.
Lola had nodded, her head bobbing up and down in an amused grin, "Yeah!" she then pouted a bit, "But I wanted to meet his son, Jojo."
Dash had laughed and poked Lola's forehead, "Not like you'd have a chance with him."
Melody assumed there was a scowl on Lola's face, due to her blurred posture and tone of voice, "Would too!" she then shoved Dash's hand away, "I mean, what's not to like?"
Dash had rolled his eyes (at least that's what Melody pictured) at the arrogance in Lola's voice, "Iunno; maybe starting with that mangy hair of yours."
Lola had shoved Dash as she heard this, "I'll have you know that everyone loves my hair! It's one of my best qualities!"
"Oh, yes – right after that mole on your neck," Dash had smirked and now pointed to a place just under chin.
Instantly, Lola had begun to panic and attempted to spot where Dash referred to, "Wha – what?! Mole? Where, where?"
"Psych," grinned Dash, as he now flicked her nose.
Lola blushed and glowered fiercely to the boy, "Hey!" and she pounced at him.
It was at this point that, Melody had turned away. She had lost interest once Dash and Lola's love spat had began. She knew what would happen, and so it did. An older woman with orange fur and her ashy gray furred husband had come to pull the two apart. One was sent to a corner in one of the side of the room, and the other to the opposite side. These two Whos, the orange and the gray, were the ones who owned the orphanage, Mr. and Mrs. Mel-deli, though, most just found it easier to just call them the Delis. Overall, Melody believed them as nice people by the tone of their voices, even if they were strict on their rules.
One of them, Mr. Deli had caught sight of Melody, still sitting silently alone against the wall. He approached her in the same dreary way; unlike his wife, he was not as passionate over the caring of the orphans. He leaned down to Melody and spoke, in a firm tone, "Melody, its time for your visit with the doctor, today."
The doctor, Melody thought. She watched Mr. Deli with wide eyes; eyes that were trying to see but could not. The doctor, Melody thought again, the same assessment; just the usual checkup. This checkup of hers occurred each week, always on a Saturday, and always at ten o'clock AM. The same schedule had been etched into Melody's mind, due to the repetitive nature of it all. Always at Saturday… always at ten. Just the same, just the same, Melody thought. He'd take her wrist and check her pulse, to see if it was any different; it never was. Then he'd go over the same routine, and give her the same shots to ease her illnesses; note that it was to ease, not stop.
Despite this, she still found herself standing to Mr. Deli's request, and she began to wander out the large room where all the other children spent their day. Mr. Deli did not follow her, he knew her well enough to know she would not wander off her daily trek.
Ten years.
That's how long she had been here. Ten years of doing the same routine each day. She was thirteen now, but even as a baby she still crawled down the same path. Her footsteps had practically been engraved into the ground, or at least they should've been.
With this thought, Melody had sighed, her only sign that she was still living; that she was still alive mentally, even if her white eyes were not. She had to skim her hands along the walls in order to keep track of where she was going. She was not just blind yet, but her vision was still dreadfully blurry. It was never a surprise if the other Whos here caught her tripping or bumping into things, and so they would usually continue on with fake-ignorance. It was a rare day when they stopped to help up a fallen Melody. Still, this wouldn't stop the poor Who. She continued on with daily commute, as if she were any ordinary Who (one that was extraordinarily quiet and spacey).
She reached the Doctor's office, and felt for the familiar golden doorknob, then opened it. The oak of the door made a swift squeaking sound, as it always would, welcoming her to the interior of the room. Melody poked her head in, and she had walked in like a lost child. No, she was not lost, but her posture and stance spoke otherwise. The way she wobbled on her legs, and how she felt the gentle feel of the crisp white wall around her. As she came to the seat in the center of the room, she felt for the arms of the chair. Carefully, she had began to crawl upon it, when the familiar voice of the doctor boomed into the room.
"HEEEY, MEL!"
The sheer jolt and surprise of the voice had caused her to tumble backwards, or at least begin to, until the welcoming arms of the doctor had caught her. They were warm, she recalled. For as long as she had known him, they had been warm, almost hot at some points, as though he were running a fever. Melody glanced up to him, as he awkwardly stood her back on her own two feet. He was the same as she remembered; his soft creamy fur and the golden hair that was atop his head that reached and touched his chin. His name was Dr. Kazoo Who, and Melody had inferred that he was a rather decent man. He was young, probably not even thirty yet, but he had still managed to take care of her since she came to this orphanage ten years ago.
Melody didn't speak, but merely nodded vaguely, as she scrambled into her seat before she had the chance to fall again.
"Right on time as always, I see!" Dr. Kazoo spoke, gleefully, his face beaming as he now grabbed his cold stethoscope, and cleaned it for a moment, then set it back down, disregarding it. He then focused back on Melody, "That's always good."
Melody had nodded again; this was usually their forms of communication. He would speak, and she would either nod, shrug, or shake her head.
"So, let's begin," said Kazoo, and his eyes were wide and a pale blue; they were light in color, but they shown more vividly then any ordinary color. He loomed over her now and had taken her wrist to measure her pulse. It had only been a second or so, but he had already released her to jot down the rate of her heartbeat. Even if he did say what it was, Melody neither heard nor listened. She knew it was the same as the last time.
Kazoo roamed over to the counter positioned in the small office. He flipped through the small needles and cotton swabs, until he found a particularly small needle. It was of the same form he normally used when giving Melody her needed shots. Melody did not watch, but she was able to listen to the gentle 'clings' and 'clangs' that were emitted as the metal of the needle and the glass of the jars had collided lightly. He attached the tiny needle to the sufficient device, and wandered back to Melody. Melody did not watch. She never did. Instead, her eyes were lied upon the same spot on the white wall ahead. The crisp white wall that stared back at her, but Melody did not entirely watch it. She did, but she did not. Perhaps her eyes were seeing, but her mind did not comprehend.
"Here it comes."
Then Melody grimaced, and bit her lip. She bit her lip just as she had done last week and the week before that. Kazoo lifted his head and smiled, pressing a swab over the small piercing placed on her shoulder. It was the same spot as always too. He never did anything to change. It was always the same routine. Perhaps that's why Melody enjoyed Kazoo's company so much. Like her, he was unchanging. Some would say that that was not necessarily a good thing. Yet, Melody saw otherwise. In her blurry white eyes, she saw that most of the children did not wish to grow up, and Mr. and Mrs. Deli did not wish for them to grow up and to leave their grasps. They did not want them to change, but merely stay the same as if they were frozen in time, unchanging.
"Allrighty! Aall finished!" Kazoo responded in a sing-song tone, as he placed a band aid on her fur. She always hated those. They needed to come up with a better 'band aid', one that did not tear at your fur when you took it off. Before she died, Melody concluded, she would have to do that.
"Now you stay here while I finish all the details," beamed Kazoo, and he was off to leave Melody in her own thoughts.
She glanced around at the mush of colors. She squinted her eyes in hopes of viewing something more vibrant, more detailed. Nothing. Only colorful blobs. She sighed in dissatisfaction, but kept at it. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, her vision would come back to her. Melody almost laughed at this thought; she almost curled a smile.
It had been fifteen, twenty minutes tops that Melody had waited for her Doctor to return. And so he did; he bounded in, with a clipboard in his hand, "Mm-Kay, you're free to go, if you want."
Melody had nodded, and she stood from the seat, feeling for the front door again. As she did so, Kazoo's voice had stopped her.
"So, you looking forward to the Mayor's visit, today?" he had said.
This time, Melody had chosen to shrug. As she put her fingers around the doorknob and even had opened the door an inch or so, Kazoo had spoken again.
"Everyone's pretty hyped about it, huh?" he spoke, and from the tone of his voice, he was smiling.
Vaguely, Melody had nodded, but she didn't move, because she knew that Dr. Kazoo had more to say, he always did.
Kazoo sat at the edge of the seat that Melody had positioned herself along previously. He ran his fingers along the few notes he had, and as he spoke, his eyes were set on them instead, "The staff can't quit talking about it. The rest of you kids are pretty excited too. It's not much of a visit, either. Just one of those things to let people know he's still around, y'know? That he's still trying to do his part as Mayor."
It had taken a moment, but Melody had nodded, and she waited for more to come from his lips.
"I hope you get excited about it, too," Kazoo had smiled, this was his finishing line; this, Melody could tell.
One last time, Melody had nodded, and with that, she had left the room, never speaking a word.
000
Ned wandered into his office, a cup of coffee in hand. He grinned in the same goofy manner as he had back in his own home. He admired his newly remodeled office, and he wrung his hand around his tie again, as he lifted his chin, as if accepting a reward of some sort. Hanging above his desk, rather then the portraits of the city council, was a new painting framed with brilliant oak. It sat in majesty in brilliant and vibrant colors: a portrait of Ned McDodd. The way he had been painted, he was in a dramatic and regal pose (very much un-Ned like). Yet, once one's eyes trailed to his lips, they would take notice of the crazed grin that Ned would normal have decorated along his lips; now this was very much like Ned. Most would find it an odd picture, due to the contrast between the imperial posture to the wild smile and vibrant colors.
Still, Ned couldn't be happier with it.
He approached his desk, and as he took a sip of his coffee (somehow managing to keep it in his cup, today), he spoke to it, "Good Moorning, Mr. Mayor!" he beamed to the painting, "You have a nice night?"
The painting just sat there against the wall. It took up a vast amount of space; probably matching the same size comparison as all five city council portraits, were they all conjoined.
Ned had laughed gently and it matched the same craziness of his smile, as if his painted-self had told some sort of joke. He wandered to his desk and set down the coffee along the wood. As he leaned down and searched through its drawers, his elbow had unknowingly bumped the edge of the cup. The remnants within the mug had spilled off the edge of the desk, and drip-dropped onto the floor. As Ned lifted his head, a number of documents and files in hand, he blinked as he realized something was off. He put his finger on his chin as he thought hard for a moment over what could be wrong. He paced for a moment, thinking, 'What could be off? What could it be?'
Until his foot had landed into the puddle of deep brown liquid.
He pouted at the sight, and one could hear him mutter gentle in a sort of whine, "Not again…"
And he set his papers down along the oak desk, as though he had been doing it every day – which he had. As he eyed the mess along the floor, he set his finger on the call button on his desk. He then spoke into it, uneasily, "Er…Ms. Yelp? Can you send some – "
Before he had finished, the door had opened and there stood Ms. Yelp. She held a sour look on her face, but there were a number of paper towels in her hand. Without a word, she dropped them on the floor for Ned to fetch, and with that she had left; shutting the door behind her with a 'click'.
Ned blinked, and soon finished the sentence he had not yet managed to do, "…paper towels?" he then approached where she had left them. He leaned down to grab them, and then looked through the door, with an uneasy smile, "Er…Thank you, Ms. Yelp!"
It was barely audible, but a faint 'welcome' was pronounced through the door, in the same annoyed tone that Ms. Yelp always used with the Mayor.
Still, that was enough for Ned, apparently, seeing as he grinned now. With the towels in hand, he bounded toward the mess beside his desk. He seemed to be humming something gleefully as he cleaned up the puddle of coffee that made its home along the rug. As he did so, however, a glimmer of light reflected off a metal surface and reached the blue of his iris. The sun sparkled ahead, and the rays reflected along the item that hung just outside his office. Ned squinted his eyes as the sunlight directly hit his line of vision. As he held up his arm to block the light from hitting his eyes, he pondered over what the light was, and how it shone so marvelously that it damaged his sight. Then he realized it and laughter escaped his lips. He stood up, putting aside sopped up towels to wander over to his balcony that loomed over all of Whoville.
As he walked about it, the area was oddly welcoming and he sighed in a tone of relief, as his hand found the rim of the golden horn that hung just beside the doorway. The sun had reflected off the surface, just like before, despite the edges were beginning to chip and partially rusted; it still hung in glorious remembrance of their good friend, Horton. It had been a year now since it all; since the discovery of it all… since they all shouted 'we are here' in melodic criteria. It was a year, and yet it felt as if it was just last week.
It had been a year, since his son first spoke to him.
This thought made yet another smile grace his lips. He was happy. He was happy as he watched the pit of the horn sit there in silence, and he spoke into it, with a gentle voice, "Horton," he began, and he was still smiling, "I wish you could see what's happened since you left us here. We really owe you. Big time."
The horn did not respond, yet it sat there in an essence that it understood, that it could hear Ned's voice against the metal. There was a gentle brush of wind that ruffled Ned's fur, and his smile softened upon the touch.
A feel of accomplishment washed upon him, and, feeling satisfied, he turned from the horn to look over his home that was Whoville. All the Whos down in Whoville wandered about, continuing with their daily routine. They seemed realistic nowadays, not as gullible as they had been before. They were beginning to see that nothing was perfect, that life was life and there'd be a few difficulties.
Ned sighed and leaned over the balcony, lost in thought for a few moments as he watched the city. His trance was broken, however, when Ms. Yelp's voice broke back through.
"Mayor, City council wants you to hurry up with those papers. They want it in an hour. Tops," she spoke, her voice surprisingly calm.
However, Ned was anything then calm as he heard this sudden noise. He swung around and practically tripped over his own feet as he did so, "An hour?!"
"Not my choice," Ms. Yelp shrugged as she began her way out of the office, again, "I'm just the messenger, so don't drag me into this."
Then she was gone, leaving Ned to stand there with the fur on the back of his neck standing up in panic, "…An hour…" he repeated in disbelief.
With a whine, Ned scurried over to his desk to begin the paperwork. He looked to it, and his expression fell even more then he already had, and he whimpered like a kicked puppy. The pile of work before him sat on his desk nearly a foot high. As of late, the council had been pushing more and more work on top of him and it was beginning to get extraordinarily tiresome. As this thought occurred, the Mayor sunk into his seat and he griped, tiredly, "…I thought things were supposed to be easier…since when was 'easy' a foot-tall pile of paperwork?"
He then slunk back a bit more in his chair, though, he was apparently not aware of how much he did so. This was because an instant or so later he fell backwards out of his chair and onto the floor. Despite the fact he emitted a small squeal of surprise, he did not quite realize what had occurred until a moment later when he was sprawled along the floor and pain ached through his back. As he went to get up, though (cringing as he did so), the stapler barely balanced along the edge of the desk. Ironically enough, it was Ned's slight unbalance as he stumbled back, that had knocked it completely off the oak. And so the stapler followed Ned's action, and so fell, too… landing directly on his forehead.
"FAAAH!!"
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Haha Poor Ned. XD And yes... Loooong first chapter. But anywho... I do hope you enjoyed this. x3 I already have a couple of chapters to put up after this. :D But I think I'll wait another day or two before I put up the next segment. x3 Anywho... I really do hope you enjoyed reading Ch. 1 8D