The Book Worm
Disclaimer: I do not own All of the random things I mention in this fic, which originally wasn't going to be a fic. But I do own John; he is a character from my imagination. Oh, and I dedicate this to my Grandpa.
John went to bed the normal time that night. Nothing was strange. He was wearing the same blue pajamas he's been wearing for years. The old cat Tony was sleeping at the end of the bed, like he had for the last thirteen years. Yep, nothing was weird. It went weird when he woke up. When John opened his green eyes he saw paneling, very unlike the white ceiling with the glow in the dark stars he had at home. He sat up; the small closet like room was very dusty. Several volumes were on the side of the day bed. Someone or another had carved something on the bed frame. Curious! He pulled off the quilt that covered not his blue sports car pajamas, but a different outfit that looked like something a boy of his age might of wore two hundred years ago. He blinked, and turned to examine the writing, scrapping the dust away he read: Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Heathcliff, and Catherine Linton.
'Oh no!' he thought. Yes he knew where he was. But how the heck he got there was quite beyond him. He pulled back the paneling on the door. His feet touched the cold stone floor, and he winced. He walked over to the corner of this new room and put on some stoking and shoes obviously for him. The next door creaked as he opened it. "Please let Heathcliff not be here." He mumbled under his breath over and over again as he slipped through the corridor. "Nelly?" he called hoping she would be there. "Nelly!" This time a girl with curly blonde hair peeped around the corner. "C-Cathy Linton?" John stuttered. She nodded; he noticed she was not wearing black, so Linton must not have died yet. She gave him a confused look. "I'm John Hathaway."
"Who would you be to be at Wuthering Heights?" That gave it away completely.
"Um-I'm a friend of Nelly's." he hoped he sounded more sure than he felt. She nodded again. "Well, Nelly's not here, she's at Thrushwood Grange." Her eyes pleaded, "Don't tell her I'm here! She'd tell papa and…" She had no reason to continue, He'd read the book. "Um-I heard she wasn't feeling well." She merely nodded again, then she tossed her head and said, "Well, I'm off to see Linton, he's ill." John smiled, waved and walked out. When he reached to outside the cold stabbed him like daggers. Yet now he realized that it was evening not morning. As he was looking out for bogs, he noticed a huge house with a wood behind it. Strange! This couldn't be Thrush wood Grange. A blonde was shooting arrows. She was rather a good shot, though not as good as her male companion. "Emma!" said the man slightly annoyed when she said something that John didn't here. "Emma Woodhouse." John whispered rather perplexed. "Mr. Knightly!" Emma said, "What is that boy doing in our lawn?" John took off his cap and gave a little bow. "Excuse me…" John was thinking 'who in this book is nice? Who would help me?' "Is…is..."
"Well spit out chap!" said Mr. Knightly strolling forward. "Is Miss Taylor here?"
"Miss Taylor?" Emma said now at John's side, "Do you mean Weston, Mrs. Weston?" John cursed himself for forgetting. "Yes, yes I do."
"Alright." Me. Knightly said, "Why must you see her?"
"W-well…" John had read this book last year for school, and the story plot was a little rusty in his head. "I-I have news of Frank Churchill." Emma gasped, Me. Knightly nodded a bit uncertain, but like most great gentlemen he offered to escort John to the Weston's. The English countryside was very lovely. All the trees were in full bloom, and the apple blossoms fell about. One fell in Emma's hair; John right then and there decided that she was the most woman he had ever seen. Why Cathy was nothing in comparison to her! "Here we are." Mr. Knightly said pointing down a lane. He said goodbyes; John smiled wistfully at Emma and started down the alley. But something changed again! The dirt path turned to cobble stones, and buildings rose up around the road instead of trees. "We are the republic!" cried out a young voice. John turned a corner to see a handsome young man with curly brown hair making a speech. He was a sash of the French revaluation around his waist. There was quite a crowd of men around him, and a signal little boy. "Oh great." John mumbled sarcastically. He was in Les-Miserables, now he had never read the book. He only a knew a few names from his Le-Miz crazed older sister. Like, Jean Valjean, Javert, Marius. He was sure the young man talking was Marius. But he did know one thing about Les-Miserables, Everyone died at the end except four people, and he didn't remember which four! By now the everyone had left except John. "What are you doing citizen?" asked the little boy from the crowd, he looked about six.
"Oh, um…" John thought a moment, "I want to join your cause?"
"Good citizen." Said the boy talking far older than his years. "Marius!" called the little one. 'Yes!' thought John, 'I was right.' The two walked into a wine shop. "Marius!" the boy called again. Marius was bent over a table. "What Gavroche?" Marius said was a sigh without looking up. He was righting something. "New recruit!' Gavroche said excitedly. Marius looked up and saw John, and his mouth dropped a little. Gavroche had a habit of bringing in "recruits" that probably hadn't fired a gun in their lives. "Um…" Marius was lost for words, "Good job Gavvi." He said rumpling Gavroche's hair….
Well that's all I have. If you have any ideas were I should drop John next please Review!