Ahem. I just wanted to say how hard I have worked on this installment of Isadora's secret musings. First, I walked through a cold, dark, pouring rainstorm to a library that had one of the few copies of TVV. It's kind of embarrassing to walk through the children's section, when I prefer to stay in the Young Adults section. Than, to get to the computer, my parents forced me to eat this disgusting weird dinner. But I hurried really fast, just for you wonderful readers. So, here I *finally* am, TVV is propped up against the keyboard, I have time to type, and I can finally begin...
(Eek! I'm whiny!)
Okay. This is the third part of what I guess has developed into a trilogy. It's named after the song by Simple Plan(Disclaimer: the song's not mine) and I will post the lyrics at the end of the story, like always. Anyway, I've rewritten Book the Seventh: The Vile Village (Disclaimer: the books aren't mine) from the point of view of Isadora Quagmire. In the book, the third, I lost control of my fingers while typing and they added some stuff that *gasp* wasn't in the book, but that's not until the end. (Nothing too drastic...)
Returning readers will know that in each chapter I hide the initials V.F.D. (For example, in God Must Hate Me, Isadora said "Very funny, Duncan." If you find the V.F.D, just say the phrase containing it in your review, and then the next chapter will be dedicated to you, having your name in bold and italic.) I think that about covers everything.
WARNING: THIS STORY, BEING WRITTEN BY AN ISADORA/KLAUS FANATIC, INCLUDES LOTS OF ISADORA/KLAUS, BUT IT'S ALL IN HER (ISADORA'S) HEAD...
(People have complained before.)
Yes, I'm stalling. I don't want my stories to be done. I've really enjoyed writing these. I guess you guys might want to read them, though....
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Chapter One
"Duncan?" I grabbed my brother's shoulder. "Duncan! Wake up!" Duncan Quagmire is my brother. Well, triplet brother. There's two us, but we are not twins.
Don't ask.
Just don't, okay?
"What is it?" he mumbled sleepily, blinking around the tower, which we were cramped into. His wide dark eyes, the same as mine, were filled with sleepy confusion.
"I woke up and you were asleep."
"Jeez, Izzie, I thought you were gonna say something important. Maybe we'd gotten out of this stinky, tiny, ugly room. Something like that."
I moved over a pile of Count Olaf's dirty laundry to sit on a stool. The stool was missing a leg and I wobbled dangerously. "No such luck."
He looked around. "God, how I am I supposed to fall back asleep in a place like this?"
I saw his point. The tower, where we'd been staying for a week, was not a pleasant spot to rest in. It was not pleasant at all, in fact. "Things could be worse. At least we have our notebooks." I touched my black notebook.
Can I tell you about my notebook? I love my notebook. It's black. The cover is black, and the front and back covers are bound by silver coils of metal.
Inside, the pages are a wonderful, fresh, pure white, waiting for poems and thoughts and doodles. They had flowing, perfect blue lines, and strong red margins. Not pink. Red.
On the inside front cover, it says 'To Isadora—Happy thirteenth birthday! XOX Mum Dad Quigley Duncan.' There's no commas or anything, everybody signed their name.
On the first few pages are my pre-fire poems. Kind of sappy, happy, crappy (heehee—rhymes!) little couplets. Than are my post-fire poems. Not too happy. Kind of depressed, uh....what rhymes with depressing, gloomy, and dark? Ah, well. Than are measurements for things in Prufrock. Than there are (sigh) my poems about Klaus. Klaus Baudelaire. We met him when Duncan, me, and Klaus and his sisters all went to Prufrock Preparatory School. It was love at first sight...for me...I have honestly no idea what he thought. In fact, up there in the tower, I still didn't. I'm normally not too shy (just ask Duncan,) but Icouldn't bring myself to tell Klaus how much I liked him...Then there were the few things I wrote in the elevator shaft, (Count Olaf, a pyromaniacal fortune-stealer had hidden us down there when he was trying to catch the Baudelaires. He wanted our families stupid sapphires...) and than everything I had written up to the point where we were now.
I hadn't written any poems lately. I just wasn't...(what's that word?)...inspired. Moved. You know?
Anyhow, I still loved my notebook. It was really special. I sound dumb, but I love writing things in the crisp blue lines. It makes them more...organized. Easier to control. With my black notebook and the sparkly purple glitter pen that Duncan and Quigley gave me last Valentine's Day, I could sort my life out into rhyming words and make it livable.
I read over the first few poems in the notebook and felt a few tears trickled down my cheeks. I had been so happy then. We all had. What had happened? Why had it happened to us? We didn't deserve it! We were good.
I sighed. Suddenly, my reflective thoughts bounced out of my head. I heard footsteps on the stairs. Duncan and I looked at each other like two deer frozen in a pair of headlights. About to be run over.
We huddled together as Count Olaf and that woman who was always following him around stormed in. They were smiling gleefully.
"Good news, orphans!" said the woman. "We've found out where you're little friends are this time! We'll have their fortune before you can say 'in!'"
"Yes," interjected Count Olaf. "We'll have to hurry before they leave again! But don't worry! We won't leave you here alone!" The fat person came in, assisted by the other associates. They were carrying something very big and bronze. "They are going to be kept in a house at the edge of a village full of crows. Everybody there loves them! So, to prove out devotion to crows, we will present them with this fountain!"
I noticed it was shaped like a bird. Suddenly, as he stopped talking and the woman started, I realized it. I was very faintly, dimly aware of her lipsticked mouth moving and both of them gesticulating, but all I head was a voice in my head going Isadora, they're going to put you into that ugly metal thing. They're going to lock you up. They're going to keep you in there. I was, as you may have guessed, a wee bit claustrophobic after the previous incidents.
But than another phrase hit my brain and I started to smile. Isadora, they're going to lock you up in that thing. You will be within twenty miles of Klaus Baudelaire.
Than they pulled us into the fountain-thing. We were too dazed to struggle much. I leaned against Duncan, thinking about small, tight, dark spaces....and Klaus.
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I hope you like it! I promise *hand over heart* the next chapters will be
L
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G
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I swear. Well, I guess that covers all of it.
GOLDFISH ROCK!!!
Kirby