Disclaimer: All characters belong to the "mysterious" Lemony Snicket. What would it have been like if he was Limey Snicket? His false name I mean.
Keep in mind that this will be very short. And it's written from Kit's point of view.
They've called off the meeting. They've called off the meeting. It is the only thing running through my mind as I watch the dark, forbidding smoke dance in the air. It is staining the air, turning against it.
Everything's turned against each other now. A new thought is in my mind. But it seems like everything really is against something. It was all because of the schism. That stupid schism. Everything is going wrong now. The last safe place is on fire, the Baudelaire children are gone, the Quagmires are separated, my brother Jacques is dead, and it seems like evil really will prevail this time. This is not how it is supposed to be.
It is supposed to be like a fairy story. Good might be beaten down, but it will still rise up again and beat back the darkness. Right now it is a fairy story gone awry. Nothing is how it's supposed to be.
I wish there is some fairy godmother that will come and save us all. With one grand sweep of her magic wand, she will send us to the ball. She will help us defeat the evil goblins and giants and vampires and monsters. Of course, the evil will have a fairy godmother too, a more cunning and stronger one than ours. Then she will defeat all our unicorns and fairies and everything good in the world.
But not everything is good. Nothing is completely good. Even that fairy godmother has bloodied her hands at some time. I gave the poison darts to Mrs. Baudelaire. I helped kill Olaf's parents. I have done other things that mark against me. So has everyone. Even the Baudelaires aren't safe. They killed Dewey. They killed the father of my baby. It was on accident, of course. They set fire to Caligari Carnival.
Nobody is safe from evil.
Nobody.
My baby might not even be safe. I hope she- or he- will live in a time where this schism is over and where the volunteers can live in peace. I hope that she won't have to deal with sugar bowls, and secret messages, and setting fires. I hope that he will be a good volunteer, and quench whatever fire comes his way.
I hope that my little baby, my precious package, my little jewel, can live in a fairy tale. I hope that she can have fairy godmother, or at least someone to spill her troubles out to. I know I might not be alive for her most precious moments.
Why do I keep saying her? My baby is going to be a girl. I know it. I can feel it deep in my bones, deep in my heart. I hope that Frank will help her. Or maybe Jerome can help her. Or possibly Justice Strauss. All those J.S. people. If they can't, if they've died, I hope that the Baudelaire children will help her life be free of strife. Free of evil.
Life was supposed to be a fairy story.