ATTENTION! Do I have it? Ok, so remember when I said that I made this au months ago? Well, I found in one of my notebooks, the original draft of the first chapter! I'd forgotten I'd written it. I like it, so that's what this chapter is. Don't worry, the real update will be coming soon.
*For the people who don't read the bold. This is my original draft of the first chapter, (I made it months ago.) I found it and liked it, so that's what this is.*
In the very beginning...
"Hey, Fiddleford?"
Stanford was standing in the kitchen, staring at an empty coffee pot. "I think we need to go shopping."
Fidds grumbled at his seat, where he had been reading notes from yesterday's investigation, "As in I need to go shopping. No! It's fine. If you went shopping there is no telling what you'd come home with." Fidds added when Ford looked guilty.
Fiddleford, after snatching the keys to the truck, hopped in and drove down to the small town's only store, Dusk two Dawn. Fidds parked and immediately started tapping his foot to the music.
Wait. Music?
Outside the doors of the shop, a man sat playing joyfully on a guitar. The tune was fast and upbeat, but the lyrics made no sense. His voice was deep and gravely. When Fidds got closer to the small crowd surrounding the man, managed to get a good look and gasped.
This man was a sickly sight! He wore a large eyepatch, with the ends of a scar peeking out the edges. He had several smaller scars on his face, seemingly random. He was ruffed up, needed a shower and to the eye, looked young, yet wisened by things you couldn't unsee. Despite this, he wore a large grin and his hands played furiously. Fidds did a double take at that. His hands...
He had nine fingers, Fidds noted. His left pinkie very obviously removed. Probably some sort of accident, Fidds thought. He marveled at the sight, pleasantly confused as to how a man so beaten down could smile so joyfully.
By the end of the song, the crowd dissipated. When they moved, Fidds got a better look at the man and watched as he tipped over something by his feet with his boot.
Fidds realized it was a collecting tin. The guitarist tipped it over. Not a single coin fell out. Fiddleford saw the man's face fall for the first time since he'd arrived and it shook him. It didn't look natural and made him seem all the more intimidating.
Compassion aroused, Fidds wondered what he could do. He could probably spare some cash, although he wasn't rich by any means. He could always buy him something, he was here to shop after all. Walking closer, he cleared his throat to get the man's attention.
This was a mistake, the man whipped around, startled. Fidds could have sworn he saw the man reach out to something that wasn't there. He mentally shuddered at what that could've meant.
Fidds felt guilt flood him for scaring him, "Oh I apologize! I didn't mean ta frighten ya. I just wanted to tell ya I enjoyed your show." Fidds added, even though that wasn't what he had been thinking about at all, even though the man did have talent. " I was wonderin', actually if I could offer ya lunch. I'm headin' ta the diner after shopping, and I feel I owe it to ya for ya wonderful production." Fidds smiled, putting it on a little thick. He didn't think the man would take pity charity.
He was right.
Lol, and that is where the original beginning of this story ends. I hope you liked this adventure into younger me's writing. Idk, I just wanted to give you all something. I'm feeling a bit burnt out. Forgive me...
Stan: No.
Ford: Aw, that isn't nice. Be nice Stanley.
Stan: *Glares at Ford* What did you just say? BE NICE? Tell that to yourself! *Stomps out*
Ford: Wonder what's up with him? *turns to you and your beautiful face* Well, I shall take my leave now. I think I shall travel into the future to see how the real next chapter wraps up this whole 'nightmare' business. Good day, and don't forget to review. *Follows Stan*
Yeesh, I am sorry. I am very weird. DON'T DIE! *throws cake at you*
