Chapter 1: Delightful upbringing

Once upon a time in a far away land…

The norms and the supernatural lived on a land called, The Kingdom of Clocks. It's where time passes for the norms and time stands still for the supernatural. The land was vast, filled with green pastures, beautiful flowers, and large rivers. In a way one would call it paradise.

The Clock Kingdom is home to the most privileged. This tale is about three norms that are also the best of friends. Lydia, a raven haired beauty who loves strange things; Bertha, tall and often mocked about her lack of beauty; and Prudence, a red head with thick glasses who stands shortest in the class. They sat in the dining hall of the most expensive, yet abundantly recognized school for young ladies.

"The salad fork is placed closet to the plate." Miss Shannon, a middle aged red head teacher, explained as she placed the silver utensil. She glanced and took notice of a certain young lady who wasn't paying attention. "Miss Lydia," She scolded, snapping the student to attention. "Please pay attention, you may have to host a tea party of your own someday."

"Yes Ma'am." Lydia replied.

Just then, a blonde haired girl raised her hand. "Miss Shannon," She called, gaining attention and then snatched away a notebook from another classmate "Miss Prudence, was writing during your lesson."

"Well there's certainly nothing wrong with taking notes," Miss Shannon, said as she walked toward the two. She then took the notebook from the blonde and immediately read it. She gasped when she discovered something horrid about the writing.

"Miss Prudence," Miss Shannon, spoke shockingly appalled to the student. "How dare you write such… such… trash during my lecture!" She scolded, insulted, still grasping the shocking details of what was written. She then walked back to her desk with notebook in hand and locked it in the drawer. She exhaled heavily; relieved the notebook was safe from the other students. "I will notify your parents about this." She informed, trying desperately to regain her composure.

"But Miss Shannon I -" Prudence began.

"You have openly written about sin." Miss Shannon stated bluntly and the other students gasped and whispered amongst themselves. "Filth will not be tolerated in my school."

"But Miss Shannon," Prudence began once again "I haven't finished writing the whole -"

"Not another word." Miss Shannon said firmly. She then looked to the grandfather clock. "Since most of our valuable time was spent on Miss Lydia's failure to pay attention and Miss Prudence's filthy writing…" She said, returning attention to the class "our importance lesson will have to continue tomorrow."

Just then the three o'clock chime rang and the class dismissed. On the way home; Lydia, Bertha, and Prudence began talking. "Wow…" Bertha awed in disbelief about the last moment in class, looking to Prudence. "What did you write about that made Miss Shannon so upset?"

"It was a love story." Prudence replied with a sigh, knowing she might not see her script again.

"What was it about?" Lydia asked.

"It was about a couple who fell madly in love but couldn't be together because of certain differences, so they eloped and ran away together." Prudence replied.

"So it's like your own version of Romeo and Juliet?" Bertha figured.

"No, it was my own," Prudence sighed, broken hearted "It's one of many of my fantasies of finding true love." She informed and then looked to Lydia. "How's your father? I know he's been ill for quite a while."

Lydia often worried about her fathers' condition. In fact, it became the very reason for her unfocused classroom attention. "The doctor said my father developed a heart condition and has placed him on bed rest."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Bertha asked, filled with concern.

"If there's anything you need, you can depend on us." Prudence assured.

Lydia formed a grateful smile. "There's nothing I need at the moment."

Veering away from a depressing subject, Bertha brought another thought to mind. "Have either of you began sewing dresses for the castle ball?" She questioned.

"No," Lydia admitted "but I've drawn several designs for it."

"You've got to hurry," Bertha urged.

"Oh?" Lydia raised a brow, not at all concerned in the least.

"The entire kingdom is shopping for this event so the fabric might not be in the shop." Bertha informed.

"I'll keep that in mind." Lydia said, sarcastic with a smirk. "And is your dress finished?" She questioned.

"Oh it's just beautiful..." Bertha awed in loving thought, forming a proud smile. "My Grandmother made it for me. The fabric is a soft cream color, decorated with pink lace and pink roses."

"Real roses?" Prudence questioned, forming an odd confused look.

"No silly," Bertha chuckled and regained composure. "They're mends of fabric sewn in the shape of real roses."

"That sounds beautiful." Lydia commented.

"Is it finished yet?" Prudence asked.

"Not yet," Bertha beamed. "The overall design is complete, but the only thing left is my fitting and the final stitch."

"Why not finish it now?" Prudence asked.

"The ball is six months away," Lydia informed "If Bertha gains weight between here and now, needed adjustments can be easier if it's left open."

"That makes since." Prudence agreed.

"We must go shopping for new corsets." Bertha urged, excitedly.

Prudence lowered her head in overwhelmed sadness. "Well after father hears about what Miss Shannon has to say, I might not be able to attend."

"Must he be so strict?" Lydia questioned, frowned in thoughts of the grumpy man.

"My Father's a militant, so being strict is part of his nature." Prudence explained. "Mother has to comply with his demands. She's not allowed to question anything. Father says, it's her duty as a soldier's wife."

"It seems it's a duty for every wife," Lydia muttered under her breath, as she rolled her eyes in thought of traditional female duties.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Bertha began. "If it wasn't for Claire -"

"It's alright." Prudence interrupted, quickly wanting to forget. "I don't want to ruin the rest of the day by thoughts of her or my parents."

"I agree." Lydia said and then formed a smile once an idea came to mind. "Let's go to our secret place." She suggested and Bertha Prudence nodded in agreement, smiling with delight.

*Secret Place*

This secret place was a small brick house, located in the far reach of the grassy grove of the forest near a narrow creek. The house has been abandoned years before and when the girls discovered it, they claimed it as their own. The three agreed that they didn't want attention drawn to the house, so they never painted the outside. They only tended minor repairs and any major repairs where done by the hands of a trusted friend.

Inside the house, the walls were painted beige and floored with polished oak. The stone made fireplace was tarnished but still kept the house warm. The girls decorated the house with a large wool rug, olive green curtains, and anything worth salvaging. They also furnished with a small round table and four chairs, each different in likeness. The rocking chair stood near the fireplace and a full sized bed near the far window.

The girls entered the house and each began their own task. Prudence sat quietly at the table writing, relived to do so without peering eyes and prejudice; Bertha practiced the violin, and was do so without harsh the scolding of the instructor every time she made an error; and Lydia began knitting, just as her ghostly surrogate mother taught her.

"What are you knitting?" Prudence questioned, as she pointed to the yarn.

"I'm not sure," Lydia confessed, forming an odd look at the piece in hand and then smiled. "I'm just going to allow my heart to lead at the moment." She said and then looked to Bertha, playing the violin. "That sounds wonderful." She commented.

Bertha, so humbled by the compliment, blushed. She then studied the music sheet once more and continued to play until she reached the final piece. Lydia and Prudence smiled as they appalled. Bertha stood and took a bow. "Thank you, thank you." Bertha said and reclaimed her seat. "Now the true test is, will I be able to impress my violin instructor?"

"I don't see a reason why not," Lydia spoke "you played wonderfully."

"If the instructor fails me, I won't be eligible to play in the nations." Bertha pouted.

"I almost forgot about that," Prudence gasped, "I hope I'll be able to attend." She pouted woefully.

"Your father won't hold those writings against you forever." Lydia said, attempting to boost confidence.

Prudence sighed. "You don't know my father."

*The Deetz' Home*

Hours after Lydia departed from her friends and returned home, she ascended to the second floor and entered the master bedroom. "Father…?" She called softly as she entered, not knowing for sure if he was asleep.

"Yes Pumpkin," He answered, laid deep in the covers of the bed. "How was school today?"

"It was boring." She simply replied.

"Ah, so that's why you haven't been paying attention." He chuckled and

Lydia formed a confused look. "Miss Shannon paid a visit and told your mother and I." He explained.

"I'm sorry father," Lydia lowered her head "I was thinking of you when -"

"That's no excuse." Delia interrupted and Lydia turned to see the wicked red haired woman, she calls her step mother, standing in the doorway. "Now give your father a kiss then leave to let him to rest."

"Delia, Lydia can stay." He assured.

"Remember what the doctor said, Charles?" Delia countered, sternly. "If you listened to the doctor in the first place you wouldn't be in this predicament." She said, firmly.

"But dear, -" He began.

"Your reckless ways will lead to a faster death and I don't want that." Delia said, sternly balling up her fist, holding back an urge to cry. "I want you to obey doctor orders." She spat and then turned to Lydia with a pointed finger, leading out the room. "Lydia, time for you to leave."

"But father said I could -" Lydia rebelled but was stopped by the touch of her father.

"Do as you're told, Lydia." He reinforced calmly.

Lydia became disgusted and left the room. It was yet another time her father didn't stand up for her and took Delia's side. At least the dismissal happened without the dreadful "your mother knows best" words leave from her father's lips. Lydia of course loves her father dearly but she secretly grew resentful of him when he would refer that red head woman as her mother.

Lydia never approved of Delia. That red-haired would never take the place of her birth mother. As a small child, the wicked temptress crept in their lives six months after her birth mother was buried and married her father while she spent the spring with her grandparents.

"Lydia," Delia called from outside the door of her step-daughter's bedroom. With no answer, she entered the room and saw Lydia, sitting on the window sill. "If you continue your rude inattentive behavior, Miss Shannon might expel you from school." She warned, still quite displeased by the new. "Your father works very hard to provide a stable life. Do not have those efforts go in vain just because you have the need to act foolish. Why weren't you paying attention in class?"

"I was thinking about my father." Lydia replied with an angry glace.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young lady." Delia scolded.

"You don't care," Lydia argued as she pointed to the woman "all you do is spend time keeping my father and I apart when you're not at the castle."

"I do care!" Delia counted, insulted in outrage. "I don't sit around at the castle and drink tea, I work. I work because your father is ill and things still need to be paid. Money just doesn't come from out of nowhere, so you see…"

Meanwhile at the same time, in a house somewhere in the village, Beetlejuice stands as his father, Nat, as he explains an important fact. "If you had a job, you wouldn't be asking us for money. Money is too hard to come by nowadays and your mother and I tire of your schemes; so with that, this family will not invest in you."

Beetlejuice, just released from a excision prison, now realized how things have changed. His father still nagged about Beetle's unemployment but was always will to give him money.

"Even your poor mother works as a live-in nurse with Dr. Prankenstein"

Nat finished off. He then studied his son's physique. "You're not as young but you're still in pretty good shape, so why not become a solider like Donny?"

Beetle frowned bitter. "I don't want to be a pet and follow someone else's orders all day."

Nat shook his head and sighed. "Everybody has to follow orders of some sort rather they like it or not."

"Oh yeah…" Beetle snorted in insulted rage "not me, I'm outta here." He spat and then left the house, door slammed behind.