I guess I should say I'm new at this, and ... slightly confused... So, I might write another chapter, but I need at least a review...
Also, I think it's a little short, but, anways, all characters, except Annabel, goes to Tim Burton.
14 year old Annabel blinked open her eyes, seeing the cluster of people gathered around her. She sat up, and looked around the brightly lit, stone walled, gathering place. Most of them stared at her, quiet, awestricken. Must have been a costume party. . . Or maybe they were the real things. Annabel wasn't a skeptic when it came to those things. Full-on believer. It was a few moments, before a cook opened her big, pale mouth. "New Arrival!" She called out, her voice ringing through the bar.
The figures tittered amongst themselves, looking straight at Annabel. A closer look at the cook show her the steak knife impaled in the stocky woman. She raised an eyebrow, and opened her mouth, as if she was about to proclaim a great speech. "What am I– '' The new arrival whispered, getting cut off.
A head on a silver platter, literally, skittered across to her. Little cockroaches acted as wheels, as the head smirked at her. "Well, well, new arrival, I am Paul zee head waiter." He introduced himself, his accent thick. "And you, Miss, are dead."
Annabel frowned, and looked at him. "That's n-not true… Then that means… You are… and I'm… How did this happen?" She threw her head back, and covered her face with her hands.
"Well, dear, I'm afraid it's true…" A voice piped up. Annabel craned her head around the crowd that was forming to see a skeletal shadow sitting right by the piano. He leaned into the light, revealing a bowler's hat and a crazy grin. "The name's Bonejangles."
Annabel nodded, slowly getting up. "Annabel" She said, pointing to herself. She slowly inched away from the group. Their eyes were glued on her
She tilted her head towards the cracked mirror, seeing her grimy reflection. Same strawberry blonde curls, same bright blue eyes, same outfit she'd been wearing since she awoke, but there were differences. Her hair was matted, her eyes clouded up, and her outfit was disheveled. Her skin was an odd color now, almost… like tinted bluish purple. But the huge difference, the one the topped all, was the three bullet holes lined up in her chest. Annabel put her hand over them, then took it off, thinking the wounds would magically disappear. And she'd be home. Nope, still there.
Her eyes wandered over to the group. Paul 'zee head waiter', the impaled cook, Bonejangles staring at her, expectantly. "You see?" The cook asked. "Do you believe us now?"
Annabel looked over her shoulder, and back at them.
"No."
With that, she ran.