I grabbed the twenty dollar bill my mother had left for me, and retrieved my favorite black Victorian sunhat. I placed on my face my favorite pair of vintage sunglasses, and applied red lipstick to my face. Since I had spent most of the day reading and really hadn't had any real interest in nourishment, I figured that a nice big cone of chocolate rocky road would do me well. I tucked the twenty in my small black handbag and headed downtown.

My house was badly placed, or rather; the town of Wolcott was built around it badly. Where my house stands used to be one of the biggest dairy farms in New York State. When our town was built, it was like they built it on the farm. Our yard was only about an acre and a half. Our farmhouse looked so out of place compared to the couple of colonial houses and the numerous ranch houses on our block.

Downtown was quite busy. Everywhere I went, people stared. I didn't care. And to show them that I didn't give a rat's ass about them, I reached into my handbag, pulled out a Marlboro 100, and lit it.

So, add smoking to my list of vices. It wasn't a truly consistent habit of mine. It was simply a stress reliever. Of course, I wasn't in any real stress right now; I just wanted to give the people a don't-fuck-with-me demeanor. No one likes a Goth with attitude.

Maisy's Ice Cream is a little building the size of a hospital waiting room that serves a very limited selection of ice cream. It had become one of the main hangouts for Wolcott's pot smokers and Dred heads. You could hardly walk in there and not see a teenager whose purpose was to go out and cause trouble for the public. This particular type of teenager pissed me off more than any other. They were, however, too scared of me to bother harassing me with rude comments.

I stepped up to the counter to order, only to receive an odd look from the girl who was working.

"How may I help you?" she asked softly. There was fear in her voice.

"I'll take two scoops of chocolate rocky road," I said.

As the girl pressed the numbers on the cash register, I observed that her fingers were trembling. From behind my sunglasses, I scanned her. Around her neck was a Christian cross with Jesus on it. There was the reason; her parents had probably taught her that Goth's are witches. It was a reaction I received from Christians often. I was not discriminate against religions whatsoever. I just didn't have one. I did enjoy reading a lot about Wicca though.

"That'll be two fifty," she said.

I handed her the twenty. As she handed me the change, I dropped a five dollar bill in her tip jar, to prove that I wasn't a bad person. She wasn't afraid to smile at me as she handed me my ice cream. I thanked her both loudly and friendlily.

I walked home the long way, so as to finish my ice cream. When I was done with my ice cream, I stopped in the nearest gas station and bought a mega Monster Energy. Add that to my list as well.

I waked passed the beach. I took a moment to lean against a tree and watch the populars converse. Like I imagined, all the girls were surrounding Stanley Porter as he sat in his lifeguard chair. There had to be over one hundred people swimming and the only lifeguard had his attention where? On Paige Benton's cleavage as she danced to a portable boom box nearby. The beach was full of interesting subjects. Many families with loads of children. Some elderly couples. The worst thing on earth was to see a seventy year old man in a Speedo. And indeed there was a man wearing one, too. It was moments like this that made me wish I had brought my camera. Even if I had brought it, it's out of film. I had forgotten to take my monthly trip to Frames N' Things this month. Frames N' Things was a local camera shop. They sold, bought and repaired old and new cameras. I had a beautiful 1965 Pentax I had bought. It had been in perfect condition, and had come with two rolls of film, a carrying case and five different lenses. It was a package deal I got for only forty five dollars.

I got bored easily at the beach and when I noticed that it was nearly sundown, I headed home.

Later that night, I was sitting at my desk drawing a portrait of myself when I had the sudden urge to look at the clock. It was half-past midnight. My parents and Claire still weren't home. They were getting drunk, no doubt. I sighed and went back to my drawing. I got lost in the textures of my hair when suddenly I heard a strange scratching noise. I sat erect in my chair and held silent.

It came again. Followed by the closing of the mail slot.

Mail at this hour? What the hell?

I bolted to the living room, expecting to find a group of people wanting to play a trick on me. Nope, all I found was an empty house. That's when I saw it.

There was an envelope on the floor by the door. As I picked it up and turned it over the envelope said Minnette. I gasped. I didn't have anyone that would be sending me mail- especially at this hour!

There was nothing to do but open it and see what kind of things it hid.

Why, inside was an old photograph of the biggest house I had ever seen. It was castle-like, with circular two-story towers and many gables. The house appeared to be concealed in the woods. As I studied it, I felt a strange tingling in the back of my skull. I was so confused. I didn't understand what so ever. Also, in the envelope was a letter, addressed to me, from Wales.

Miss Stonington,

The time has come for your presence to be known at once.

I suggest you travel soon. I will be seeing you soon at the Home of the Peculiars.

Enclosed is a map that will help you find your way.

Alma LeFay Peregrine

I felt as if my head had exploded without my knowledge. I did not recall ever meeting anyone from Wales. A home for peculiars? Alma Peregrine? I knew nothing of this letter, its origins or its writer. I contemplated whether or not to believe it. I peeked inside the envelope at the folded map. Thoroughly I studied it. The words "Cairnholm" and "cave" were written at the top, both circled. Someone had drawn a path on the map with some kind of ink. It started at the area Wolcott was in, and it stretched over the ocean, and stopped at a circled Wales. I shook my head.

Okay, first of all, this letter had come to me at midnight. That was suspicious. Second, some stranger- well, strange woman, considering her name was Alma- wanted me to travel to Wales.

Just then, I heard Claire's obnoxious laughter. My family barged in the door, all drunk. Quickly, I folded everything and tucked them under my arm.

My father approached me. "Hey, Kiddo, whatch'ya got there?" he asked. His breath smelled of pure alcohol.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just a bunch of school papers I found. I'm going to bed."

I quickly made my way to my room. Thank God I had my Monster. I would spend the night looking up Cairnholm, Wales.