-CHAPTER ONE-
I sat there. Bored half to death. Listening to my grandmother give
painfully long speeches about 'the war' and 'the good old days'. I almost
fell asleep, luckily my mother was sitting next to me and kept on nudging
me when I dosed off.
"...Jake was a born leader, he lead us through all of the wars, it's
a shame about his untimely death..." my grandmother continued.
She was like some sort of celebrity. Actually she was a celebrity.
Yeah, sure she save the world single handedly from parasitic aliens. But
who cares? Well, aside from the piles of media that came... It was one
of those 'Animorphs Conventions', you know, the ones where crowds of people
meet at the homes of the Animorphs (even the dead ones) and it's
like some sort of press conference except it twice as boring.
My mom noticed me yawn, "Honey, why don't you go look around the house?"
"Yeah, OK," I said and got up. I headed to one of the staircases.
This house was large. It was 'normal suburban house' turned mansion.
My grandmother had wanted to live in her old house, the one she lived in
as a kid. It was kind of suspicious, but then again all grandparents are
weird.
I walked through a long dark corridor. Stroking my hands against the
walls as I strolled through.
Then I came up to a door. A normal door. You know, wood frame, decorations
carved it. But it was weird, it sort of made me want to go in, like it
sort of called for me.
I turned the door knob slightly, afraid of making the slightest noise
in case someone heard me. I stepped in, it had this sort of damp smell,
sort of musky, old and dusty. Like it hadn't been used for ages, but that
didn't shock me, my grandma's house was known for it's age and size.
"Rachel Anderson's overtly largely wonderful mansion!" That's what
all the news papers say, even the kids at school comment about it saying
stuff like, "What's it like to have a grand mom who lives in a house that's
fifty five times the size of the white house?" or "I heard your grandmother's
house is, like, the largest house on the planet!"
OK, so all of that is true, but I don't know whether I can take it.
I peered closer into the room, it was darkish, like sort of dark but
not?
"I wonder where all the boogey men are today," I said to myself as
I walked further in. It was like some sort of bedroom, with an old bed
and a little shelf with an even older computer next to it.
I went to the computer, it looked like a MRG42 23.56, but then again
it looked kind of old for that.
I pressed the 'power' button and took a seat. What computer has a 'power'
button anymore?
The computer monitor flashed some written text:
Username: Rachel
Password:________
I needed a password.
Hmmmm, I said to myself, I wonder what granny would use as
her password...
Then it suddenly occurred to me.
Tobias, her dead husband, the one she loved and cherished. The one
who died in the war decades ago.
I quickly typed in the name. And pressed the enter button.
"Password accepted" it said.
I scanned the desktop. So it wasn't a MRG42 23.56. A personal computer
of some sort, but who uses a pc anymore? Then again, this computer was
probably from my grandmom's teen years, and that was a long time
ago.
I saw something. My Diary it
was written, I didn't have to assume who it belonged to. I quickly double-clicked
it.
The software loaded slowly. Tick, tock, tick,
tock...
A program called 'Microsoft Word' opened, it
asked for another password.
"Geez, does she ever give up?" I wondered,
I tried Tobias again.
"Password denied"
it said.
Dan! Her father, yes! Granny was pretty close
to her father - well at least until he was killed by the Yeerks.
I tried it.
Password denied.
What was it that she said she liked to called
her father? Something... Daddy!
That was it, Daddy!
I typed it up.
"Password accepted"
-CHAPTER TWO-
Words were written in a cute font, or something.
I read.
I hate what I do. Another one dead - Yeerk, of course! - today, and I didn't even feel bad. The others are beginning to think I love the war, to an extent, I do but I don't. Do you understand? I just... I guess... but I hate what they are beginning to think of me. I hate it. I think, sometimes that I'm just going to snap, like I'm going to go mad, or something...
-CHAPTER THREE-
I couldn't read anymore. I was disgusted, the
stories she told... she always said the other animorphs died in an accident
or were killed in battle, and mysteriously she was the only survivor. Now
she became famous, without the other animorphs to share...
"Jennifer!" a voice hissed. I snapped my head
around. Grand mother, looking ever so beautiful, she had been beautiful
all her life and was going to stay that way.
"Grandmother..." I said meekly.
"What are you doing here!?" she demanded.
"Um..."
She peered closer at the computer screen.
"I thought I told you never to go near this room!"
she screeched.
"Uh..."
"You read it, didn't you?" she asked, "Oh, well,
you'll just have to die like the rest of them..."
She raised her gun barrel. And pointed it at
me.
"Aaaah!" I screamed,
BANG!
Pain. Surging pain. Disillusioned.
Love. Love? I was disillusioned. I tried to make
sense.
I was lying on the floor, pressing my hand to
my head and feeling the blood.
Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Rachel. Animorphs.
Death...
I died that fateful night...
