Chapter 1: Movie Night
I wish I could say that the little girl looked innocent. I'd be lying. She was in an old-fashioned black sweater dress, her long black pigtail braids draped gracefully across her shoulders. She climbed the stairs of the mansion with an air of precision. Wednesday knew what she was doing, and she was going to enjoy it. She was carrying a videotape. It had no label or box. She knew what it was. She knew the story.
Seven days. That was what she had. No, it was closer to three days, now. Wendesday had seen the remains of her classmate. She had gazed upon that waterlogged, decayed carcass with a pensive smile. When Wednesday smiled, it usually looked bad for someone. The redheaded girl had tried to save herself. Oh, she had put up a valiant struggle! Wednesday heartily approved, although she had passed the videotape to the class freak too late. Wednesday had watched it in the living room of the redhead's house, waiting for the parents to return. She had heard the screams in the other room just as the tape began, and grudgingly paused it to appease her eternal curiosity. Wednesday had opened the door just in time to see another dark-haired girl in action.
She looked about the same age as the Addams girl. She had on a white victorian dress, in perfect contrast to the black curtain across her face. What was visible of that face had once been so delicate, but a few decades of death had changed that a bit. The redhead was already gone, curled into the fetal positon in the end, and dripping on the floor of the destroyed room. The girl in white and the girl in black had just stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up. Neither spoke, but Wednesday had raised one hand in a little wave, and the girl in white had pointed a rotting hand at the television and vanished. Wednesday had gone back to the living room to continue the movie in peace.
Now she was continuing the cycle. She opened the door to her family's television room. If it was clear that Wednesday would be a stunning beauty in just a few years, it was certain that her brother would be the opposite. He was an oversized lump of a boy, in a striped shirt and black trousers, perched cross-legged on the dusty sofa with a bowl of popcorn.
"What kind of movie is this?" He asked, oblivious.
"An independent film. It's avant-garde."
"Is it funny?"
"You'll die."
Wednesday pushed play. The images flashed across the screen, bouncing from nightmare to nightmare in a dizzying flight. Pugsley giggled occasionally, while Wednesday just smiled sweetly. The movie ended all too quickly.
"That was so cool!" Pugsley nearly knocked over the popcorn bowl in his exitement. Wednesday, with her ever present calm, strolled over to the phone. She picked it up after the first ring, handing it to her brother.
"It's for you."
"You didn't even listen to who it was!"
"I know." Pugsley took the phone, his face scrunchng for a moment as he listened to the speech. Seven days! "Until what?"
Wednesday didn't move. "Tell her I said hello." But the phone was dead. Pugsley hung up, confused.
"Seven days until what?"
Wednesday smiled again. "Until you die."