METMA Mandy
A/N: Well, I said I wouldn't do a sequel. I really did. But, of course, I couldn't stay away from the Weasley/Douglass saga for long. Here it is -- the prologue of the sequel to "Behind the Checkered Apron." (And you've got to have read that first.) The title comes from a famous quote.
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"Mum, can I go play outside? Please?" Little Annabelle Sanderson turned to her mother, her very best puppy-dog expression on her face. "Please?" she added, fluttering her eyes in what she hoped was a pitiful manner. She held her breath, waiting for her mother's answer.
"All right, all right!" laughed her brown-eyed mother. "No need to go into dramatics! Just don't get your clothes dirty, dear. Oh, and don't talk to strangers!" she added, shooed her young daughter out of the door into the bright sunny day, and headed back into the kitchen. She shook her head, a smile still on her face.
As soon as her mother was safely out of sight, Annabelle grinned, dropped to the ground, and rolled down the hill outside their home. The soft grassy hills were better than any Barbie doll her mother could buy her, she thought, sighing in delight. When she returned home tonight, she knew her mother would roast her for getting grass stains all over her clothes. But it was definitely worth it, she decided.
A few minutes later, tired and dizzy from rolling, she rose and brushed herself off. But no sooner had she gotten off the ground when she desperately wished to be back on it, safe out of the sight of the meanest boy in the village, Danny Brenner. He thrived on making fun of her; Annabelle couldn't think of a time when he had ever said something nice to her. It was just what she needed, for him to see her all covered in mud and grass. She tried to creep away and hide behind the trees, before he on his bicycle could catch up with her.
"Hey! Annabull!" he shouted sarcastically, breaking into a sprint on his bicycle. "You're even dirtier than usual ... did you try to grow a brain again?"
Annabelle rolled her eyes in disgust, and broke into a run. When Danny was bothering her, there was one place she could go where he wasn't able to follow her on his gleaming red bicycle. It was just beyond the lane, where the land had yet to be developed. There was a little forest with trees grown so close together that the light that shone through was like stars in a green, leafy sky. Within the forest was a tiny little abandoned mine shaft, that years ago had been overflowing with workers. But when the minerals ran out, so did the workers. Now it was perfectly empty, and just big enough for a little girl to fit in. It was cool and dark, and most importantly, Danny-free.
The leaves crunched under Annabelle's soft footsteps as she trotted happily to her secret hide-out. Looking over her shoulder, she noted gleefully that Danny had stopped chasing her and had gone to look for some animals to torture. Boys had the shortest attention spans.
When Annabelle was just a few feet away from the brush that covered her shaft, she heard a strange popping sound within. She frowned and crept closer, now making sure to keep quiet. If someone had found her hide-out, she would just have to get it back. But now she could see a green, glowing light creeping out from the normally dark shaft. It didn't look like the flashlight she had left in there, but more like a glowstick, unnaturally florescent green.
Crack. Annabelle froze, realizing that whoever was inside could tell she was coming. She tried very hard not to breathe, or make any sort of noise whatsoever. But she was very young, and the leaves on the nearest tree were tickling horribly. She slowly moved her hand to scratch her face.
In a flash, strong arms surrounded her, pulling her down, down into the mine shaft. Annabelle got a quick glance of the man who was holding her, and struggled and cried out in a panic. He was old and wizened, yet his eyes were alive and flashed madly. Although Annabelle had never seen an insane person, she was sure this man was. She swung her arms, trying desperately to tear at his scraggly bearded face, but he didn't budge an inch. As swiftly as he had grabbed her, the man threw Annabelle to the ground. She crawled away, like a hurt puppy, trying to escape. But with a quick word from the man, the entrance to the shaft was suddenly blocked. She shook her head in disbelief; how had he done it? Yet this was all too real. She was trapped.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" whispered Annabelle, tears running down her face. She had heard horror stories from her mother of what dirty, crazy men would do to girls they caught, and she shivered. The incident with Danny Brenner now seemed so very far away.
The old man seemed to guess what she was thinking, and opened his mouth to speak. His voice was a husky croak, as if he had not used it for quite a while. "Nothing so childish as that ... no ... you've got something much better in store, dear." From his back pocket he pulled the source of the mysterious greenish light, that she had thought might be a glowstick. Except, it wasn't; it was a long stick of wood that looked curiously like something she'd once seen on a television show... a wand.
Annabelle opened her mouth to scream in horror, but nothing came out. She whimpered mindlessly in fear, trying to paw her way through the rock walls of the shaft. Her mind was screaming at her body to do something, anything, to escape, but it seemed incapable of doing anything but worthlessly cowering.
"You see," the madman continued in an amiable manner, "I certainly can't have you blabbing to all the Muggles where I'm hiding out. No, no, that wouldn't do at all... I'll have to make sure you don't tell, won't I?" He began to approach the corner where Annabelle was huddled, his wand drawn out before him. His eyes shone with a murderous gleam that was perceptible even in the dim green wand light.
"No..." whispered Annabelle, her last protest magnified sharply by the rock walls of the mine shaft. As Mr. Douglass spoke harshly the two words that could cut off life forever, he couldn't help but think to himself that he was hard. He was ruthless. And nothing could stop him from getting his revenge on those that had robbed him of the life he'd once held dear.
In a house on a hilly lane, a mother called anxiously for her lost daughter. The echoes of her many calls whispered through the grove of trees. But the rustling leaves gave no answer.
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A/N: Where IS Mr. Douglass? What's happening to Molly and the gang? These questions and more will be answered in the next chapter. Please review -- leave guesses, ideas, praise, or criticism. I have to give a huge thank-you to Juliette for helping me with getting this bit started, Rach for beta-reading, and of course all of you lovely readers who liked "Behind the Checkered Apron." You inspire me!
