A/N: Okay, here it goes. I know it's been forever since I updated, but...
Yeah, you'll have to bear with me for the next couple of chapters.
Something really big is supposed to happen at some point a few chapters
from now, and I just kind of have to get to that point, or you'll be all
confused, lol.
For future reference: the story kind of jumps over certain parts... for instance, Book 22 through around Book 28 or so isn't in there, lol. It'll make more sense once I get there. And, also for future reference, if you don't see anyone's name at the beginning of the chapter (or after ***) you can just assume that it's Steph who's narrating. It will probably be mostly her, and probably a few with Jake or I think Erek for one of them... But yeah. Lol, just a heads up.
And this one takes place during Book 9.
Chapter 1
It started out innocently enough.
I was sitting in my bedroom, re-reading my old Animorphs books and getting a good laugh at some of the things I read—in those days, I read the books whenever I needed to read comedy, and Animorphs was sadly the only thing on my shelf that constituted as comedy.
Somehow, no matter how hard I tried to make myself not read them—I kept reminding myself that I was too old for them—I always came back to them. There was always something about their little world that drew me in. When I was younger, I even convinced myself that it was all real. I thought I was going crazy. No, I didn't think I was going crazy, I knew. At least, I thought I knew.
Later, I would look back on those old thoughts and wonder how it was that innocent ten-year-old self could see something that my more mature, and more cynical, fifteen-year-old self was blind to.
So, there I was, sitting on my bed, re-reading Book 9—the title of which I have long since forgotten—a book that I hadn't really bothered to read since the first time I had read through it. I don't know why I chose to read that particular book when it happened, but for whatever reason—fate, maybe—I was.
There was no noticeable change—not right away, at least. But suddenly everything was very still. I didn't pay much attention—no one was home, so it made sense, sort of, that there wouldn't be much noise. That's the only reason I can think to give for why I didn't notice him.
"Hello, Stephanie."
I jumped, giving a loud shriek. My head jerked up, and I froze, staring at him. He looked the way I had always pictured him, I guess. You know, in his old man's guise. He was smiling a little, which I thought was weird, since I'd never really pictured him smiling. But then, he wasn't exactly the one I'd spent the most time thinking about.
I could feel the power coming from him. It was eerie. He looked like a regular old man—heck, he could have been my grandfather—but you could totally tell that there was more to him than that.
See now, I didn't think it was him at first. Oh, sure, there a niggling little feeling in the back of my mind that told me I knew him from somewhere. I mean really, how had he gotten into my house—into my room—without me knowing? I didn't know what he was supposed to do, so I just sat there, clutching my book like it was my last lifeline.
It kind of amazes me that my first real memory of the Ellimist began the way it did. You know, when I thought of him before, I always imagined this big, booming voice, you know? Like when you turn the radio up as high as it will go. But it wasn't like that all.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his tone sounding almost gentle. It made sense when I thought about it later. His tone, I mean. He was the first alien I ever saw, my introduction—my very strange introduction—to a world I barely knew existed.
I should have said no, I guess. When I opened my mouth to answer him, that's exactly what I was going to say. But instead what came out was, "You're Ellimist."
I don't know why I said that, but somehow I think I just knew right then. It was ridiculous, I was sure I had to be dreaming. But there he was.
And so I sat there and listened to him tell me why he was there. He talked for what seemed like forever, but when he was done he basically gave me a choice: Stay here and go on with my life as it probably would have progressed anyway—or come with him and try to help the Animorphs.
It was insane, as Marco would so eloquently put it. The series—the war—was over, and what could I do? If Jake and the others made mistakes, who was to say I wouldn't make the same ones? Yeah, okay, I already knew everything that would happen, and I remembered all the big mistakes, but I would probably just make more.
But a part of me—that part that retained some of the innocent enthusiasm I had at ten—wanted to go. I wanted to be a hero. It was stupid of me, but I was tired of my mostly boring life. I wanted to experience it all for myself.
So I told the Ellimist that I'd do it. And when he told me that I could never, never, reveal anything that would happen to anyone else, I agreed. I figured, well, how hard could it be?
Yeah. Right.
For future reference: the story kind of jumps over certain parts... for instance, Book 22 through around Book 28 or so isn't in there, lol. It'll make more sense once I get there. And, also for future reference, if you don't see anyone's name at the beginning of the chapter (or after ***) you can just assume that it's Steph who's narrating. It will probably be mostly her, and probably a few with Jake or I think Erek for one of them... But yeah. Lol, just a heads up.
And this one takes place during Book 9.
Chapter 1
It started out innocently enough.
I was sitting in my bedroom, re-reading my old Animorphs books and getting a good laugh at some of the things I read—in those days, I read the books whenever I needed to read comedy, and Animorphs was sadly the only thing on my shelf that constituted as comedy.
Somehow, no matter how hard I tried to make myself not read them—I kept reminding myself that I was too old for them—I always came back to them. There was always something about their little world that drew me in. When I was younger, I even convinced myself that it was all real. I thought I was going crazy. No, I didn't think I was going crazy, I knew. At least, I thought I knew.
Later, I would look back on those old thoughts and wonder how it was that innocent ten-year-old self could see something that my more mature, and more cynical, fifteen-year-old self was blind to.
So, there I was, sitting on my bed, re-reading Book 9—the title of which I have long since forgotten—a book that I hadn't really bothered to read since the first time I had read through it. I don't know why I chose to read that particular book when it happened, but for whatever reason—fate, maybe—I was.
There was no noticeable change—not right away, at least. But suddenly everything was very still. I didn't pay much attention—no one was home, so it made sense, sort of, that there wouldn't be much noise. That's the only reason I can think to give for why I didn't notice him.
"Hello, Stephanie."
I jumped, giving a loud shriek. My head jerked up, and I froze, staring at him. He looked the way I had always pictured him, I guess. You know, in his old man's guise. He was smiling a little, which I thought was weird, since I'd never really pictured him smiling. But then, he wasn't exactly the one I'd spent the most time thinking about.
I could feel the power coming from him. It was eerie. He looked like a regular old man—heck, he could have been my grandfather—but you could totally tell that there was more to him than that.
See now, I didn't think it was him at first. Oh, sure, there a niggling little feeling in the back of my mind that told me I knew him from somewhere. I mean really, how had he gotten into my house—into my room—without me knowing? I didn't know what he was supposed to do, so I just sat there, clutching my book like it was my last lifeline.
It kind of amazes me that my first real memory of the Ellimist began the way it did. You know, when I thought of him before, I always imagined this big, booming voice, you know? Like when you turn the radio up as high as it will go. But it wasn't like that all.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his tone sounding almost gentle. It made sense when I thought about it later. His tone, I mean. He was the first alien I ever saw, my introduction—my very strange introduction—to a world I barely knew existed.
I should have said no, I guess. When I opened my mouth to answer him, that's exactly what I was going to say. But instead what came out was, "You're Ellimist."
I don't know why I said that, but somehow I think I just knew right then. It was ridiculous, I was sure I had to be dreaming. But there he was.
And so I sat there and listened to him tell me why he was there. He talked for what seemed like forever, but when he was done he basically gave me a choice: Stay here and go on with my life as it probably would have progressed anyway—or come with him and try to help the Animorphs.
It was insane, as Marco would so eloquently put it. The series—the war—was over, and what could I do? If Jake and the others made mistakes, who was to say I wouldn't make the same ones? Yeah, okay, I already knew everything that would happen, and I remembered all the big mistakes, but I would probably just make more.
But a part of me—that part that retained some of the innocent enthusiasm I had at ten—wanted to go. I wanted to be a hero. It was stupid of me, but I was tired of my mostly boring life. I wanted to experience it all for myself.
So I told the Ellimist that I'd do it. And when he told me that I could never, never, reveal anything that would happen to anyone else, I agreed. I figured, well, how hard could it be?
Yeah. Right.
