1 Disclaimer: ya – don't own ne of these characters. Too bad, huh? Yadda
yadda blahblah ~~ on to the show….
Lavania Nebbs tarried at the window, hushed, gaping at the reflection of her mortified features, which seemed to gawk back at her in the shadowy windowpane. She heard a faint footstep that landed on the pile of neglected candy wrappers left from last nights " French Romances" on WENN.
She edged towards the front door at a snail's pace. As she peered down, she was astonished to see herself vibrating in wild spasms. Her knees, her hands, her entire body shaking uncontrollably with fright. She reached for the doorknob and tugged and turned violently until the door had drunk every ounce of her energy.
" Ah," he cooed, " too bad sweetheart, looks like you'll hafta stay here with little old me. Anybody ever told you how graceful your neck is, so beautifully curved, suga-."
But she terminated his fiendish mockery with a blood curdling shriek that broke the half- filled glass of lemonade into thousands of honed knives that flew hideously through the air. She darted up the stairs like an antelope fleeing from a blood thirsty lion on rampage. Behind her she could distinguish the constant tread of the Lonely One's feet, trailing, tramping, traipsing up the never-ending stairwell into a labyrinth of doors.
Lavania crawled stealthily up the fifteen, suddenly turned fifteen million steps. " Oh God, please don't let these legs fail me know," she muttered under the constant tides of her breath. When she reached the top, she scurried into the tiny bathroom just across the bleak hallway.
" I need a phone, or… or a window, Yes, yes that's it, a window. There!" She thrust her strong young arms towards the window and shoved with all her might, but it would not budge an inch. She stood frozen, not able to move, to breathe, or to think.
"Ain't no use Miss Nebbs, your as good as gone, just like your friend Miss Ramsell! Wasn't she a frightful sight? Color drained from that dainty face of yours soon as you laid those angelic eyes on her," drifted faintly under the door towards her frigid ears.
At this Lavania's body stirred with mechanical sparks of energy forced by an almost frozen mind that had seemed lifeless moments before. She scampered like a flash of scarlet lightning before the Lonely One, who had only ascended halfway up the darkened corridor.
The next passage she reached was the guest bedroom. She galloped wildly in, tripping over a chair left carelessly in front of the door. She landed in a heap by the towering dresser. As she stood up, she felt a sharp jolt of pain in her temples. Holding her head, she stood and searched for some means of escape, but found none after ransacking the mahogany desk and matching dresser, a gift from her grandparents. She fled stentorianly from room to room looking for some means of refuge as the Lonely One reached her level.
The Lonely One observed her frantic scrambles and jolts from one room to the next. He cackled menacingly, a never-ending chortle that rang like her own funeral bells in her ears.
Lavania quickly reached the end of the hall. She thrust the door open and slammed it wildly after her, causing a vociferous echo that the ignorant rats could hear in the distant basement. She twisted and turned the lock in vain, for it was broken. "Why on earth did Burt not come over yesterday to fix this lock?" she questioned silently, "Oh my gosh, the telephone! Oh Lord, please don't let the line be dead!" She sprinted to the telephone and carried it with her behind one of her large, plush loungers. She dialed the police station as quickly as she could while trying to control her body from drastic convulsions of fright.
The door creaked open slowly, slowly, slowly. Lavania glanced towards his piggish face, full of terror as the phone rang for a life long eternity. The Lonely One stepped forward and cracked his knuckles one by one, while the phone kept ringing faintly in Lavania's deaf ears. The Lonely One charged like a bull towards Lavania's crimson sweater. He tossed the lounger aside as if it were nothing but air. It hit the wall and crashed to the Oriental rug in many scattered pieces of neatly chopped firewood.
"Hello…hello…uh, anybody there?" flowed softly into Lavania's ear from the telephone still clutched in her sweaty palm.
The Lonely One strolled towards Lavania, arms outstretched towards her graceful neck. Lavania released a rasping, petrifying, appalling shriek that stunned the rogue-catcher on the other side of the line. She sat paralyzed by the eerie gleam in the bull's eye.
He lunged towards her, clutching the throat that had sung so many dazzling harmonies and melodies with the church choir. Lavania dropped the phone. She could feel her life being stolen from her very body, and her tongue being forced away from the back of her throat. She took a frenetic glance around her, but saw nothing that could distract this raving beast.
Then, the silvery gleam of her sewing scissors caught her eye. She reached towards it, using all of the energy and might left in her enervated, somnolent body. She latched her hand around it. She was losing energy rapidly as her murderer's hands came closer and closer together. She flung the scissors into the air, and with a sickening gleam they slid slyly into the evil heart of the Lonely One.
His fleshy weapons slid from her throat and fell in a heap over the wound. The Lonely One fell massively over a growing crimson sea.
Lavania's eyes began to darken and recede into subconscious oblivion as the red and blue sirens screamed to a halt in front of her revered porch, in front of her cherished house, and in front of the destroyed glass of lemonade she had abandoned a long time, a year, half an evening ago.
Lavania Nebbs tarried at the window, hushed, gaping at the reflection of her mortified features, which seemed to gawk back at her in the shadowy windowpane. She heard a faint footstep that landed on the pile of neglected candy wrappers left from last nights " French Romances" on WENN.
She edged towards the front door at a snail's pace. As she peered down, she was astonished to see herself vibrating in wild spasms. Her knees, her hands, her entire body shaking uncontrollably with fright. She reached for the doorknob and tugged and turned violently until the door had drunk every ounce of her energy.
" Ah," he cooed, " too bad sweetheart, looks like you'll hafta stay here with little old me. Anybody ever told you how graceful your neck is, so beautifully curved, suga-."
But she terminated his fiendish mockery with a blood curdling shriek that broke the half- filled glass of lemonade into thousands of honed knives that flew hideously through the air. She darted up the stairs like an antelope fleeing from a blood thirsty lion on rampage. Behind her she could distinguish the constant tread of the Lonely One's feet, trailing, tramping, traipsing up the never-ending stairwell into a labyrinth of doors.
Lavania crawled stealthily up the fifteen, suddenly turned fifteen million steps. " Oh God, please don't let these legs fail me know," she muttered under the constant tides of her breath. When she reached the top, she scurried into the tiny bathroom just across the bleak hallway.
" I need a phone, or… or a window, Yes, yes that's it, a window. There!" She thrust her strong young arms towards the window and shoved with all her might, but it would not budge an inch. She stood frozen, not able to move, to breathe, or to think.
"Ain't no use Miss Nebbs, your as good as gone, just like your friend Miss Ramsell! Wasn't she a frightful sight? Color drained from that dainty face of yours soon as you laid those angelic eyes on her," drifted faintly under the door towards her frigid ears.
At this Lavania's body stirred with mechanical sparks of energy forced by an almost frozen mind that had seemed lifeless moments before. She scampered like a flash of scarlet lightning before the Lonely One, who had only ascended halfway up the darkened corridor.
The next passage she reached was the guest bedroom. She galloped wildly in, tripping over a chair left carelessly in front of the door. She landed in a heap by the towering dresser. As she stood up, she felt a sharp jolt of pain in her temples. Holding her head, she stood and searched for some means of escape, but found none after ransacking the mahogany desk and matching dresser, a gift from her grandparents. She fled stentorianly from room to room looking for some means of refuge as the Lonely One reached her level.
The Lonely One observed her frantic scrambles and jolts from one room to the next. He cackled menacingly, a never-ending chortle that rang like her own funeral bells in her ears.
Lavania quickly reached the end of the hall. She thrust the door open and slammed it wildly after her, causing a vociferous echo that the ignorant rats could hear in the distant basement. She twisted and turned the lock in vain, for it was broken. "Why on earth did Burt not come over yesterday to fix this lock?" she questioned silently, "Oh my gosh, the telephone! Oh Lord, please don't let the line be dead!" She sprinted to the telephone and carried it with her behind one of her large, plush loungers. She dialed the police station as quickly as she could while trying to control her body from drastic convulsions of fright.
The door creaked open slowly, slowly, slowly. Lavania glanced towards his piggish face, full of terror as the phone rang for a life long eternity. The Lonely One stepped forward and cracked his knuckles one by one, while the phone kept ringing faintly in Lavania's deaf ears. The Lonely One charged like a bull towards Lavania's crimson sweater. He tossed the lounger aside as if it were nothing but air. It hit the wall and crashed to the Oriental rug in many scattered pieces of neatly chopped firewood.
"Hello…hello…uh, anybody there?" flowed softly into Lavania's ear from the telephone still clutched in her sweaty palm.
The Lonely One strolled towards Lavania, arms outstretched towards her graceful neck. Lavania released a rasping, petrifying, appalling shriek that stunned the rogue-catcher on the other side of the line. She sat paralyzed by the eerie gleam in the bull's eye.
He lunged towards her, clutching the throat that had sung so many dazzling harmonies and melodies with the church choir. Lavania dropped the phone. She could feel her life being stolen from her very body, and her tongue being forced away from the back of her throat. She took a frenetic glance around her, but saw nothing that could distract this raving beast.
Then, the silvery gleam of her sewing scissors caught her eye. She reached towards it, using all of the energy and might left in her enervated, somnolent body. She latched her hand around it. She was losing energy rapidly as her murderer's hands came closer and closer together. She flung the scissors into the air, and with a sickening gleam they slid slyly into the evil heart of the Lonely One.
His fleshy weapons slid from her throat and fell in a heap over the wound. The Lonely One fell massively over a growing crimson sea.
Lavania's eyes began to darken and recede into subconscious oblivion as the red and blue sirens screamed to a halt in front of her revered porch, in front of her cherished house, and in front of the destroyed glass of lemonade she had abandoned a long time, a year, half an evening ago.