O Arnold, Where Art Thou?
By Angela Marcisak
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hey Arnold!, okay? Craig is so much better than me…*sniff* Why, God, why?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all my faithful reviewers! I apologize for not specifically thanking each of you, but I must return to writing this chapter. I'm sorry it took so long to get out; I've been having problems in my life lately that have been on my mind more than this fic. So, without further ado, Chapter 4! (
CHAPTER 4- The Dream and The First Day
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The long winding road finally came to a close, stopping at a clear dead end. Well, not completely. The bridge had collapsed, and there was no way of crossing over to the other side. There stood a large gap between two incredibly steep cliffs, which stood over an incredibly deep dam somewhere in the mountains of Colorado. Yes, the scenery was simply breathtaking; yet the serenity of the wilderness would not stay silent for long.
An ear-piercing scream shook the snow-capped forests; animals had begun to scurry around in panic and in no knowledge of what was going on. Deer galloped to and fro, bellowing in the snowy meadows, and tiny chipmunks rocketed up pine trees for a decent shelter. Chickadees took flight on little wings as far away from the site as they possibly could, and jackrabbits hopped into their burrows.
Cut back to the dead end. A little girl, around nine years old, was standing on the edge. Her clothes, a faded black T-shirt and a ripped pair of denim jeans, were battered and torn in a number of places, and a dirty silver cuff was tied to her wrist, yet the other end had been cut off previously. Her hair was matted and covered with dirt, showing signs it was blonde, yet it was so filthy that you could hardly even recognize it unless you looked at her up close. About less than a foot away from the girl stood a boy. This boy had matted hair as well, yet he was also blonde and also had a less-than-shiny cuff hanging from a scratched wrist covered in fingernail marks. His clothes were decent to match the odd shape of his head—a plaid button-down shirt covered by a sky blue sweater and blue pants with black shoes.
The girl looked over her shoulder and began to scream again. The view was horrendous; one step backward could send her plummeting into the depths of the unfathomable dam. She looked back over at the boy, a disgraced finger pointed in her horror-struck face. "You don't…" he started, taking a step back, "You don't deserve to live!" He struck a hand forward, sending the girl backwards. Time stood still for what seemed like hours, maybe even weeks. Her eyes, filled with sorrow, filled with tears and alone begged for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Arnold…" she whispered. He could see her mouth those words as they escaped her mouth, but heard no sound. It was all drowned out by the rushing calamity of the waterfalls. She seemed lifeless as a corpse as she plunged lower and lower off the cliff, soon to meet her doom by the sweeping extreme depths of the river, whatever doom may have been. "You don't deserve to live!" The words echoed shamefully in her mind, yet her eyes remained closed. The raging waters laid only inches below her. "This is for you, Arnold…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"AAAAH!" Helga shrieked. She sat up quickly, yanking her arm forward to wipe the sweat off her brow. Unfortunately, she pulled the wrong arm. "OWW!" Arnold yelled, his peaceful grin turning to a look of anger. "What was that for, Helga? I was trying to sleep!" "Sleep? Isn't it…?.." Helga glanced at her wristwatch. It read 3:02 AM. "Oh…sorry, Football Head…" she shot back with mock sorrow. Arnold glared miserably, setting his head back down on his pillow. Helga yanked her arm forward once more. "Ouch, Helga!" Arnold rubbed his hurting wrist. A red mark penetrated the pale peach skin. "Not so fast, Arnoldo," Helga whispered scornfully. "I need to use the bathroom!" Arnold sighed, annoyed that Helga had interrupted his peaceful slumber at such an early hour in the morning. "Fine, Helga. I promise to keep my eyes shut; I wouldn't want to answer to Old Betsy…" Helga stopped him. "Never mind, Hair Boy. (sigh) Now where's my pink book? At least my right hand is free…some dream I had; I'd better write it down…" She pulled her pink duffel bag over to her side, rummaging through the insides. She gasped. "My book? Where's my book? Oh God, no, this HAS happened before…" She stopped still. Slowly turning to Arnold, a smug smile appeared on her face, while a knot formed in Arnold's throat. "Arnold…?" she dauntingly inquired. "Do you KNOW where my book is?" Arnold swallowed. He reached with his free arm under a pillow, pulling out a familiar orchid-colored tome, handing it to Helga with a trembling arm. She snagged it away, stuffed it in her knapsack, and stood up, urging him to follow. They walked quietly to the bathroom door, stepping over the many piles of still sleeping preteens. Helga opened the door, and with her back to the toilet, dragged him in and slammed it shut.
She had a desired urge to grab him by the throat and wring his sorry little neck, but she couldn't do that to poor Arnold that early in the morning, so she stood up straight and began to speak.
"Arnold? Could you tell me WHY you had my DIARY?!?" she roared, sending him back into the sink behind him. Her face was deeper than the shade of the pink book itself. "You dropped it on the sidewalk before the sleepover party, and I forgot to give it back to you. I-I didn't read it, I swear!" he pleaded, watching Helga's angry face awaiting a response. She dropped a clutched fist at her side, sighing loudly. "Whatever." Arnold had narrowly escaped that one.
"You had better watch it, bucko," she continued, turning towards the toilet, "Or else you're gonna be—HAROLD?" Harold stood laughing at the base of the toilet, holding a burnished silver object over its surface. The key! Helga lunged forward at the fat smiling boy, but it was too late. He dropped the key into the automatic toilet, and before either Helga or Arnold could rescue it, it disappeared down the U-bend and out of plain sight.
~END~
A/N: I'm sorry this chap was so short! I didn't want the people who are reading this story to be peeved about me taking so long. I have writer's block, unfortunately. Please review anyway? I'll make my future chaps as long as I can.
By Angela Marcisak
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hey Arnold!, okay? Craig is so much better than me…*sniff* Why, God, why?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all my faithful reviewers! I apologize for not specifically thanking each of you, but I must return to writing this chapter. I'm sorry it took so long to get out; I've been having problems in my life lately that have been on my mind more than this fic. So, without further ado, Chapter 4! (
CHAPTER 4- The Dream and The First Day
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The long winding road finally came to a close, stopping at a clear dead end. Well, not completely. The bridge had collapsed, and there was no way of crossing over to the other side. There stood a large gap between two incredibly steep cliffs, which stood over an incredibly deep dam somewhere in the mountains of Colorado. Yes, the scenery was simply breathtaking; yet the serenity of the wilderness would not stay silent for long.
An ear-piercing scream shook the snow-capped forests; animals had begun to scurry around in panic and in no knowledge of what was going on. Deer galloped to and fro, bellowing in the snowy meadows, and tiny chipmunks rocketed up pine trees for a decent shelter. Chickadees took flight on little wings as far away from the site as they possibly could, and jackrabbits hopped into their burrows.
Cut back to the dead end. A little girl, around nine years old, was standing on the edge. Her clothes, a faded black T-shirt and a ripped pair of denim jeans, were battered and torn in a number of places, and a dirty silver cuff was tied to her wrist, yet the other end had been cut off previously. Her hair was matted and covered with dirt, showing signs it was blonde, yet it was so filthy that you could hardly even recognize it unless you looked at her up close. About less than a foot away from the girl stood a boy. This boy had matted hair as well, yet he was also blonde and also had a less-than-shiny cuff hanging from a scratched wrist covered in fingernail marks. His clothes were decent to match the odd shape of his head—a plaid button-down shirt covered by a sky blue sweater and blue pants with black shoes.
The girl looked over her shoulder and began to scream again. The view was horrendous; one step backward could send her plummeting into the depths of the unfathomable dam. She looked back over at the boy, a disgraced finger pointed in her horror-struck face. "You don't…" he started, taking a step back, "You don't deserve to live!" He struck a hand forward, sending the girl backwards. Time stood still for what seemed like hours, maybe even weeks. Her eyes, filled with sorrow, filled with tears and alone begged for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Arnold…" she whispered. He could see her mouth those words as they escaped her mouth, but heard no sound. It was all drowned out by the rushing calamity of the waterfalls. She seemed lifeless as a corpse as she plunged lower and lower off the cliff, soon to meet her doom by the sweeping extreme depths of the river, whatever doom may have been. "You don't deserve to live!" The words echoed shamefully in her mind, yet her eyes remained closed. The raging waters laid only inches below her. "This is for you, Arnold…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"AAAAH!" Helga shrieked. She sat up quickly, yanking her arm forward to wipe the sweat off her brow. Unfortunately, she pulled the wrong arm. "OWW!" Arnold yelled, his peaceful grin turning to a look of anger. "What was that for, Helga? I was trying to sleep!" "Sleep? Isn't it…?.." Helga glanced at her wristwatch. It read 3:02 AM. "Oh…sorry, Football Head…" she shot back with mock sorrow. Arnold glared miserably, setting his head back down on his pillow. Helga yanked her arm forward once more. "Ouch, Helga!" Arnold rubbed his hurting wrist. A red mark penetrated the pale peach skin. "Not so fast, Arnoldo," Helga whispered scornfully. "I need to use the bathroom!" Arnold sighed, annoyed that Helga had interrupted his peaceful slumber at such an early hour in the morning. "Fine, Helga. I promise to keep my eyes shut; I wouldn't want to answer to Old Betsy…" Helga stopped him. "Never mind, Hair Boy. (sigh) Now where's my pink book? At least my right hand is free…some dream I had; I'd better write it down…" She pulled her pink duffel bag over to her side, rummaging through the insides. She gasped. "My book? Where's my book? Oh God, no, this HAS happened before…" She stopped still. Slowly turning to Arnold, a smug smile appeared on her face, while a knot formed in Arnold's throat. "Arnold…?" she dauntingly inquired. "Do you KNOW where my book is?" Arnold swallowed. He reached with his free arm under a pillow, pulling out a familiar orchid-colored tome, handing it to Helga with a trembling arm. She snagged it away, stuffed it in her knapsack, and stood up, urging him to follow. They walked quietly to the bathroom door, stepping over the many piles of still sleeping preteens. Helga opened the door, and with her back to the toilet, dragged him in and slammed it shut.
She had a desired urge to grab him by the throat and wring his sorry little neck, but she couldn't do that to poor Arnold that early in the morning, so she stood up straight and began to speak.
"Arnold? Could you tell me WHY you had my DIARY?!?" she roared, sending him back into the sink behind him. Her face was deeper than the shade of the pink book itself. "You dropped it on the sidewalk before the sleepover party, and I forgot to give it back to you. I-I didn't read it, I swear!" he pleaded, watching Helga's angry face awaiting a response. She dropped a clutched fist at her side, sighing loudly. "Whatever." Arnold had narrowly escaped that one.
"You had better watch it, bucko," she continued, turning towards the toilet, "Or else you're gonna be—HAROLD?" Harold stood laughing at the base of the toilet, holding a burnished silver object over its surface. The key! Helga lunged forward at the fat smiling boy, but it was too late. He dropped the key into the automatic toilet, and before either Helga or Arnold could rescue it, it disappeared down the U-bend and out of plain sight.
~END~
A/N: I'm sorry this chap was so short! I didn't want the people who are reading this story to be peeved about me taking so long. I have writer's block, unfortunately. Please review anyway? I'll make my future chaps as long as I can.