I walk out of my tent, the cool and oddly chilling air hitting my face like a fist.
I eye the circle of workers around the campfire, and slowly walk over when I see Indy, a sly smile on my face.
"Pitcher Girl!" They all chorus, greeting me as I walk to the center of the circle where Jones is.
I turn to him and give a falsely sweet grin, which I can know he can see right through. He grins back all the same.
"Hello, Marion." He says quietly, in the way I have always adored. Like he regrets greeting me but loves doing it all the same.
"Good evening Doctor Jones." I simper, giving him a wink. "Would you care to hear a story?"
I ask the question to the whole circle of people, who all cheer and chatter excitedly.
"Um, isn't that my job, to entertain?" He asks, looking quite reluctant to leave his post.
I feel rather overpowering, despite the fact that Indy towers over me with his colossal height. I try to make myself look as big as possible.
"Go sit down before you hurt yourself, Jonesie." I command calmly, much to the uproarious laughter of the workers.
Indy grumbles, but goes to sit down anyway, knowing defeat is inevitable.
I clear my throat and raise a hand, silencing the company.
"Now." I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. "Have you ever heard the story of the lovely Lady Elizabeth, who all but killed her lover, John Harrington, when she killed herself and preceded to haunt his house?"
They clearly haven't; I am making this up as I go along. I then continue to spin out a horrific tale about a girl who haunts his house and kills any women that stay there. It was a pretty chilling story, if I say so myself. The looks on everyone's faces were priceless, they looked as if they could shit their pants any minute.
I sealed the story with the traumatized widower (John Harrington) throwing himself off the high most balcony when he sees the ghost of Elizabeth.
"From then on," I concluded in a dark tone, "No one ever dared to set foot near Harrington Manor."
My ending was met first with a moment of absolute stunned silence, as the workers stared in horror at the night sky, obviously thinking about the story.
But then, they all burst into a raucous applause.
The meaning was clear; I have uprooted Indy from his position as head story teller.
I turn to smile at everyone and see Indy staring at me, intense. He is smiling and clapping like the rest of them, but I can't help but know he is searching me for something. I don't know what, his face gives away no details.
With a rather awkward looking curtsy, I leave the center and join the circle as another worker goes forward to tell a story. I sit next to Indy, crossing my legs and resting my chin on my palm.
He stares at me incredulously.
"That was brilliant." He says enthusiastically.
"You think so?" I ask, turning to look at him.
He doesn't have to reply though, I already know that I am genius.
Marion Ravenwood, master story teller.
And her ever-faithful and supportive side-kick, Indiana Jones.
No romance, just friendship.
And everyone lives happily ever after.
The end.
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Updates may be scarce this week. You see, I'm at a drama day camp and its intense and I will hardly have any time to update. On Saturday though, I will be back to stay.