Disclaimer: No, as always, I do not own any characters in this fic. Lemony Snicket (and of course Daniel Handler, who "represents" him) do. In actual fact, this fic is about Lemony Snicket….
A/N: I wrote this a few months ago, very late at night, but decided to type it up now. It's very short…. And there are some technicalities, I have realised. For example, there were no remains what so ever left of the Baudelaire mansion, so how Lemony could have stepped into the 'room' is beyond me. Anyway, here goes my one-shot. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank smilies for her inspiring reviews for they always give me more confidence! And also to abbitha, who without I would be fanfic friendless.
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A man rushed into the room, or what was left of it, and collapsed angrily to the floor. He knelt there for some time, hands over his face, not making a sound or moving an inch.
Even the room itself appeared to share the man's mood. It stayed still and silent, it's ashen contents grieving with him.
Eventually the man stood up and began to pace, glancing down at the larger remains, and once or twice bending down to inspect something.
When he reached the burnt bookshelf, his expression changed to a tense stare. His eyes were wide and full of sadness. Memories played in them, a complicated maze of times gone.
Slowly he held a hand up to one of the shelves, and shakily laid it on a blackened spine. He pulled at it gently, and the book slid out of its place. It was a miracle it wasn't burnt too.
The man shook more violently now, as he began to carefully flick through the slightly crispy pages. He reached 667 and opened the book fully. A single folded piece of paper lay inside, and he took it out, his hand tightening around it.
He stood there, the paper clutched in his hand for a few minutes more. He wasn't looking at it- he was far away, watching a roll of scenes in his head. When he finally came around he looked determined and unfolded the paper, reading quickly.
L-
You were right. They are coming. I'm only sorry I never believed you. I don't have much time, but there are some things I have to say. One of them is that I am sorry and I hope you forgive me. My children must know what has happened, L, and I want you to tell them the whole story. Find them. Do not let them be sucked into the world we were.
Secondly I want you to know the sugar bowl is safe. I have hidden it where it will never be found be the other side of the schism. Whatever you or anyone else says, we were right to take it from Esme. If you ever find it completely necessary to retrieve it, go to Prufrock Preparatory School and ask the librarian for the Vain and Friendly Dog, a terribly dull story about a dog that enjoys greeting people in a self-centred fashion.
The librarian will ask if you have heard of the author Eliza Ynomel, to which you must reply that you find her work variable (a short and fancy way of saying sometimes you do and other times you don't enjoy it). From here you will be given further instructions.
Hopefully this letter has fallen into the right hands. I hope you can fully read it, it may be destroyed in the coming events. I must go now, L, our time is short.
-B
'The World is Quiet Here'
The man straightened, once again covering his face, but this time with his hat. He turned and kicked the remainders of a dining room table hard. It crumbled away.
He took a box of matches from his pocket and struck one, holding it up to the letter. Suddenly he pulled it away, as though changing his mind. He blew out the match and pocketed the piece of paper.
The man walked towards the door and turned as he reached it, staring for the last time around the derelict room.
"I'm coming Baudelaires" he said, and shut the door behind him.
That was a bit short, but please review!