Sorry if I'm ruining an old childhood show for you guys, but this idea just won't leave me alone. So here is chapter two of my story, the explanation for the mayhem, and how it began. R&R please, and any constructive criticism, if it is indeed constructive.

Chapter Two: A Hundred Acres of Silence

Christopher Robin left the day his mother died, and had not set foot in the Hundred Acres since. The Wood became quiet after that. The day they all knew he wouldn't be coming back, Owl locked himself up in his house, poring over his books, as if somewhere in his library was the way to bring him back. All the while, he never spoke a word, and never stepped outside. Rabbit set to gardening that day, and hadn't stopped. He woke with the sun, hoeing and weeding his ever-growing field, working his hands to the bone sowing and harvesting, picking and pruning, and hardly making a sound. Kanga and Roo hadn't been seen since they left, wandering into the woods, leaving an empty house behind them.

Poor Tigger had lost all of the bounce in his step. He practically abandoned his home, and took to walking along all the old paths, miles of dirt road, hoping to remember the times he had forgotten in the years of Christopher's absence. Little Piglet visited Pooh as often as he could, but only spoke behind closed doors, as an almost holy silence had fallen, daring to be broken. He was the only one to talk when he visited, as he went on and on about how the wind seemed to blow harder every day, and laugh almost too loudly at some joke from too long ago. After that, he would clean. And clean. Scrub, wash, and mop until his hands reeked of soap and bleach.

Then there was Pooh. Oh, poor Pooh bear. He was hit the hardest when he realized Christopher wasn't coming back. He seemed to crumple, and when he shut the door to his house that day, it only opened when Piglet came. He lost his appetite, and his eyes had dimmed. Some days, when Piglet had just left, or when he didn't come at all, Pooh would lie upon his bed and stare absently at his ceiling for hours, sometimes a day, without a bite to eat or a wink of rest, as depression sat heavily on his chest. In fact, it was there that he lay, when our story really begins. It was there that he lay, years after Christopher's disappearance, when the midday sun went dark.

Pooh bolted up as he awoke. Breathing Heavily, he looked out into the sky. The sun was high, glaring brightly through the glass. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes in frustration. He had had a nightmare. About him. Again. The nightmares started weeks ago, and Pooh could hardly sleep without seeing Christopher's terrified face etching into his dreams. Last night's had made no sense, all of it was loud, and dark, and frightening. All he had heard was a man's voice, whispering ugly things into the blackness.

Pooh sighed again, and pushed himself off of his bed, towards the kitchen. He wasn't hungry. But if you don't eat, Piglet will worry again. And he'll talk even more.

So he ate, and enjoyed not a single bite. He was washing his jar when it started.

The sky blackened, and the house was pitch dark. He gasped, and glanced up at his window. The sun was gone, and the moon sat in its place, a ring of fire burning at its rim. The sight frightened Pooh terribly, but did not prepare him for what happened next.

Suddenly his head erupted with pain. His hands clutching at his head, he fell roughly upon the ground; but his eyes were fixed upon that flaming ring, burning the sky with its very presence. Writhing on the floor, Pooh began to scream as visions flooded his mind:

A woman, with her body ravaged, lying still in a casket. Flashes of a boy, running, crying down a long hallway, as a nightmare chased him down, swinging its knife, and cackling. Human hands keeping a weak grip on a kitchen knife, as dark blood bloomed from human wrists. One man, his father, grimacing down as his fist struck down again, and again. Countless things. It seemed that years passed before the moon at last broke away, leaving the bear lying upon the floor, his mouth a rictus of silent screams. There he lay for hours until Piglet at last opened his door.

" Oh, dear! P-Pooh, are you all right? Oh my, you look awful! Here let me help you up. Did you see that eclipse earlier? Wow, that Sc-Scared me something terrible, you know! Later on I don't know why but I wondered if you were all right, and it's a good thing I did, because you could have been there for hours, If I hadn't shown up. I wonder did it have something to do with-"

"Piglet."

"Y-yes, Pooh? What is it?"

"Stop talking."

"Oh…. Well a-alright Pooh, if you prefer silence, I guess I can-"

"Piglet."

"Right. Sorry."

Piglet sat like that for a while, just looking down as he always did, when he wanted to tell Pooh something, and looked up. He gasped

"P-p-p-p-p-Pooh! Your eyes! What's wrong with your eyes!"

His eyes, instead of black beads, had become wide open, and his pupils had shrunk, making Pooh looked crazed. Pooh just smiled. His teeth showed.

" I consider it an improvement, don't you think?"

He laughed into the silence. It was not Pooh's laugh.