Author's note:
This is just a short one-shot that expands on Lucas' brief description of how he and Wednesday met in One Normal Night. It's all in Lucas' point of view simply because anyone's first encounter with an Addams is very special(and because the thought of getting into Wednesday Addams' mind scares the bajesus out of me). This is my first Addams family fic so I'm sorry if it's not very good.
And to my subscribers, yes, I know I'm supposed to be updating my other stories but this has been in my head begging to be written for weeks.
I own nothing but the poem(and even the first stanza is partially based on Lucas' part in the Chicago version of Crazier than you).
I don't quite know what possessed me to walk into the trees that day. Any other day, I would have stayed on the path where everyone walks through Central Park, but today I was in an especially creative mood. Poems about everything were running through my mind. Trees, crying children, skyscrapers…they were all making words come together in my head, but I felt as though I was searching for that ONE thing that was truly inspiring. Far better than a plant or a taxi.
In my search for inspiration I chose to cut through an unknown part of the park. An area where there was no beaten path. It was more like a forest than a park. The trees seemed less healthy than any in the park I'd seen before and the atmosphere was just…different. I kept thinking to myself, people go out here, right? But it didn't really seem like it. I had been walking for a good ten minutes, and was becoming more and more uncertain about my surroundings with every step. I was about to turn around and go the exact way I came when I reached a small clearing. As soon as I stepped out into the open, I heard a strange noise followed by a female voice yelling,
"Yes!" the voice sounded fairly close but before I could tell from which direction it came, something dropped from the sky, right at my feet. I looked down to see a dead pigeon with an arrow sticking out of its chest. I immediately became incredibly alert. Whoever shot the bird could shoot at me next. But suddenly, I heard movement at the opposite side of the clearing from me.
I looked up to see a girl(goddess is more appropriate). She was about my age(so she couldn't have been more than 18) with incredibly pale skin and long, black hair in braids. She wore a long sleeved button up black dress that looked like it was from the 20s and added to her mystery. She was most definitely not the crazy wild person I had expected to jump out of the trees.
At first, she looked about as surprised to see me as I was with her, but then she raised the crossbow she was carrying and aimed it at me.
"Don't move." she said warningly. Her voice was an incredibly unique monotone. It shot an immense amount of fear into me but it only made the girl seem even more attractive.
"Wh-" I started to say something but she stopped me.
"Don't speak either." she said before slowly moving towards me. She didn't stop until her loaded crossbow was pushed against my neck. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst through my chest. I'd only been in New York for a month or so and had seen a lot of things an Ohio boy couldn't imagine, but this was something completely different.
"What were you doing out here?" she asked me interrogatively. I hesitated to answer but finally said,
"I-I was just taking a walk." her eyes narrowed in suspicion. I know that I was supposed to be terrified of her considering she was holding a deadly weapon against my jugular, but all I could think of was that this beautiful girl, or should I say woman, was only a few feet away from me.
"Nobody comes here." She stated.
"I was looking for inspiration." I said. I knew that if she planned on killing me, telling her the actual reason I was there wouldn't make it worse. If she was confused by my answer, she didn't show it. In fact, she hadn't shown any facial expression at all the whole time I'd been near her(which was only about a minute but it seemed a lot longer).
"For what?" She asked. Again, there was no emotion.
"Poetry." then she finally showed something, a look that basically said, you have got to be kidding me.
"Lets say I believe you. Why should I let you get out of here alive?" The girl still held the crossbow to my neck but she didn't seem quite as serious about killing me as before. "Come on. Give me a reason to not end your sorry life right here and now." She pushed the crossbow harder into my neck. There was absolutely no way I could escape and I had no answer to her question. Just as I was about to give her some nonsense answer, she, to my surprised dropped her arm and the bow was finally away from my neck.
"On second thought, death is bliss. If you have no reason to live, then some small part of you wants to die. Therefore, if I let you live, it would be worse than killing you." with that, she picked up the dead bird at my feet by the arrow it had been killed with and started walking out of the clearing away from me.
Um, what just happened? was all I could think. I had just had my life threatened by what I could only guess was a really extreme goth chick who enjoyed hunting. It was altogether a very confusing and terrifying experience. But what was more confusing than the event itself, was that I felt the urge to be around the weapon wielding girl again. So without thinking, I ran after her.
She was walking at a fairly quick pace but I caught up with her in record time thanks to my dad's demands that I play a sport in high school(who knew dribbling a ball past sweaty beanpoles in crappy gyms would actually come in handy some day).
"If you do in fact value your life, you'd turn around." She said to me as soon as I was just a few feet behind her. I desperately tried to start a conversation with her.
"So what are you going to do with that pigeon?" I asked casually as if she hadn't been threatening my life a few minutes before.
"That's really none of your business. Now go back to your frat house before I give you a tracheotomy with a tree branch." I never doubted for one second that she would actually carry out that threat but I didn't care. I don't know what hit me but suddenly I was speaking in a way usually only my mother does, in poem(and no, it didn't rhyme).
"My heart is frozen
My head is a prison
My heart starved of love
My life in an endless loop
A huntress
Dangerous and cold
So beautiful and strange
Releases me from my cage
Pale white skin
Hair like ash
Face like no other
From a different time
Eyes blazing
Bow in hand
Diana the Huntress
Back again"
After I was done, the girl had the strangest look on her face. It was almost, conflicted? Suddenly she caught me off guard by dropping the crossbow and bird and then striding over to me. With an impossible amount of strength, she shoved me into a dead tree. My head slammed into the rotting wood and I knew there was going to be a huge bump there tomorrow(if I even lived to see tomorrow).
She placed her hands on my cheeks and I was certain she was going to snap my neck. With her strength, I didn't doubt her. Even knowing this, I couldn't look away from her smoldering dark brown eyes that seemed like they could see my soul and pick out every flaw of my just as I'd accepted that I was about to be murdered by a gothic goddess, she crashed her lips to mine, kissing violently.
I found myself responding eagerly. I didn't care that she'd threatened my life just two minutes before, I cared about the fact that kissing the girl felt like the most right thing in the world. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, she pulled away from me. She looked about as surprised about the kiss as I was.
"I have to go." she said and walked back over to her crossbow. Her braids didn't look as perfectly done as they had before and she seemed slightly more...human? If that's the correct way to describe the way her voice sounded less cold and her movements seemed less robotically graceful. I couldn't let her leave now so just as she was about to walk out of sight again, I called,
"Wait!" she stopped in her tracks, turned around, and sighed. I felt relieved that I didn't have to run after her again. "Can I get your number? Or your name at least?" I asked. Honestly, I'd never had a totally anonymous makeout session before and I was a little confused as to what was supposed to happen next. Do we go our separate ways and never speak to each other again, do we awkwardly friend over Facebook(I doubted she even had a Facebook), or do we go on an actual date? I thought poets were supposed to be suave!
"I suppose." she said without emotion. The girl changes moods more than my mom and she's going through menopause! She reached down to her leg. Where there would normally be a knife strapped to her thigh was an iPhone in a plain black case. It seemed so odd that the beautiful teenage huntress who shot pigeons with a crossbow in a remote part of Central Park was up to date on current technology."No pockets." she explained and handed it to me.
It took me a second to realize I needed to give her my phone as well so we could put in each other's contact information. I handed her my slightly outdated Motorola that had been dropped several times, leaving jagged chips in the sliver paint on the immediately began typing in her name and number so I did the same on hers. I couldn't help but notice that she only had two numbers stored. One titled, "Home" and the other titled, "Lurch". So she wouldn't know I'd looked, I entered my name and phone number a lot faster than normal. After another quick exchange of our phones, the girl once again turned around to leave. I glanced down at the screen of my phone where the once nameless girl's information was typed. At first I thought she had written a fake name and the number would lead to the Rejection Hotline, but a small part of me said that both were real.
"So, should a call you sometime, Wednesday Addams?" I asked. She didn't turn around to face me.
"Maybe. Lucas Beineke." and she was gone.
Ok so that's the epic tale of how Wednesday and Lucas met. And yes, Wednesday has an iPhone. It shall be explained in another one-shot. The Rejection Hotline is a real thing. My older sister has used it several times(because she's mean). I would post the number but neither of us remember it.
Please review whether you loved it or hated it. Criticism is good for writers. If we don't get it, we never improve. However, nice things are good too.