11. Nation

"Nation, we live in a perilous time. With the turn of the century approaching, what have we become? We nearly lost half of our country during the Civil War, because they wanted to keep people as salves. But this country is about freedom. If we're free, what about slaves? ALL slaves in should be free, every single negro should be equal to white men, just as women should be equal as well. Isn't THAT what America is all about? Shouldn't we ALL be free and equal? The answer is yes. Except murderers. Murderers can go get-"
"Reginald!" Mr. Bates snapped. "Take off my suit this instant!"

12. Home

I don't usually like to sound sentimental. That was in the past, when I was a poet. Poets are the Kings of sentiment, they could turn scratching their finger into something that would make you weep in pity. There is one thing I allow myself to be sentimental about, however. Home. Contrary to popular belief, home is a state of mind. It is not a house, or a building. It is... an emotion. That's why people mostly say they FEEL at home. So, who do I have to feel at home with?
I never felt at home with my parents, not even before my Mother died. I loved my Father dearly, but he tainted to air. He made me feel... uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. I didn't feel at home in boarding school, either. The other boys more or less ignored me, fearing they would catch whatever illness I had at the time, and for good reason, I suppose. It's not like I could make a social life even when I was healthy; most of that time was spent catching up on the work I missed when I was unwell. You can see a pattern forming here. I never felt at home with Von Helrung and John, even though they were my best friends. John was always mean to me, however, and Von Helrung was... well, Von Helrung. He was a Monstrumologist, and though he never wronged me in any way he was a social pariah with people, even in his own household. Then came Muriel, whom I loved with all my heart. Now, don't expect me to explain why I jumped off that bridge; I don't very well know myself. Nor did I ever truly forgive Muriel for her reaction. But, before then, we were happy. I was engrossed in my work, of course, but we were still fairly joyful until that point. Why did I not feel at home with her? This time, I do not have a reason. I simply... didn't. And I fear that even if I had ended up marrying her, I still would have felt that way. It's peculiar, but that was the way it was. Now, James. James was very close to my new home; but he wasn't that way. I did enjoy his company, his services were indispensable to me. He even saved my life once. But, he was not my home, and certainly not his wife. Oh, how she hated me! She thought it was a secret, but even in my own little universe I could sense her distaste. I technically stole her husband from her, after all. Now, after all I've been through, I do have a person I call home: Will Henry. Now, he may attest to you that we mutually hate each other, but that is not the case (at least in my mind). I cannot really say I love him, those words are a tad foreign to me, and though they carry so much emotional weight, I feel like "You are indispensable to me" has more so. Instead of expressing love, you're expressing need. That seems more important. And I need Will Henry. He is basically my bastard son. Though James and Sarah were his parents, I felt like a part of me sits with him somehow. Whether it was because I knew him since the minute he was born or not, it seems that way. He has stuck with me all this time. After Muriel and John perished, he was there, the one left. I do not have my parents, but I have him. You could argue I have Von Helrung as well, but when he dies, who will I still have left? Will Henry, of course. He is my home because all I have is him, and he knows that I am all he has. And that is why he is my home.

13. Fear

"Will Henry!" A voice hissed.
I could feel a hand shaking my shoulder, and I groaned. My eyes blinked open to see the Doctor's face inches from mine, his eyes wild in a strange emotion... fear. He never allowed himself to fear things. He's claimed fear is his enemy!
"Were you asleep?" He asked.
There were a million sarcastic answers on the tip of my tongue, but if there was any time the Doctor could unleash a verbal lashing, it was this. So I simply nodded.
He snorted. "I suppose you didn't hear the noise, then."
Oh Lord, here we go with the bumps in the night. He heard them all the time, every two minutes I would get "Will Henry, did you hear that?!"
I guess when you're half awake and used to living alone, every single noise is an intruder or other danger.
"No Sir, I did not."
"Well I heard it, clear as day. It sounded like a pot falling out of a cabinet!"
"It was probably a mouse."
"A mouse strong and intelligent enough to open up a cabinet and push a pot to the floor?"
"A rat, then."
The Monstrumologist let out a groan and threw the covers off of him.
"No, you silly, stupid boy, it has to be a person!"
"I doubt someone would rob us, Sir."
"We have many gold coins, Will Henry. As well as much important research on Monstrumology..."
He gasped and shot up. "Good God, what if someone is after my research!?"
"I don't think anyone from town would want your research, Sir."
"No, it's probably someone from Boston or New York."
The Doctor pulled out his revolver. His eyes were wild with fear, but now determination as well.
"Snap to, Will Henry, we have a thief to catch!"
I looked at my watch, then slid out of the chair with a groan.

14. Life

Pellinore sighed and rested his chin on his hand. Where in God's name was James? He was supposed to be there an hour ago.
"I am not getting any younger, Mr. Henry!" The Doctor said to no one.
As if on cue, he heard the front door open and slam, and feet pound down the hallway.
Pellinore stepped out of his study, nearly getting plowed over by James, who looked like he just witnessed an accident.
"Dr. Warthrop!" He cried, grabbing his employer's shirt. "Sarah, she's in labor!"
Pellinore recoiled. He was a Monstrumologist, not a midwife!
"Take her to the hospital." He said calmly.
"I would, but I don't have that kind of time! You are a Doctor, right?!"
Well, he couldn't expect James not to know he had never delivered a child in his life, considering that he hadn't told the older man his true profession yet.
"Alright, bring her in here."
A wash of relief crossed James' face, and he rushed out the door, returning a few minutes later with Sarah.
Pellinore braced himself for the laboring woman, knowing the amount of pain she was in would certainly affect the way she treated him.
i.e, make it worse.
She glared at him, insisting to James that she shouldn't didn't want to have that BASTARD deliver her child, but James brought her upstairs anyway.
Bastard? Pellinore stiffened. This wouldn't be a pleasant experience, not even for the baby.
Grabbing his field kit, he ran upstairs.
James had laid Sarah down on the bed, and whether her face was contorted in pain or she was glaring at him, Pellinore couldn't tell.
Her husband was wiping her forehead, saying soothing words, while she snapped and swore at him.
It was like watching someone try to pet a rabid dog.
Pellinore sighed and did his work, the time being blended by Sarah's screams, James' sweet nothings, and the sound of his own heartbeat.
Then, the bundle of noise was broken by a cry. Not one from Sarah this time but from a baby... boy, as Pellinore noted.
Throughout the 5 hours, the Doctor imagined himself tossing the baby to his mother, offering a congratulations, then retreating back to his study. But, something made him freeze. The baby had stopped crying, and was looking at him.
Just... looking at him.
Pellinore studied the the infant, with his father's blue eyes and mother's fair hair. He smiled as he saw the baby wasn't bald, and was almost tempted to dry the hair, so it would look like a chick's.
His son would look like a baby chicken.
Pellinore almost snorted at the thought.
He was tugged back, however, by the snip of scissors as James cut the umbilical chord.
"May I have my son?" He asked.
Oh.
The reality of the situation crashed down upon Pellinore, and he handed James the baby with a quick apology.
James smiled and traced a line over his son's face, before handing him to Sarah.
"The laboring lady gets to pick the name." James said cheerfully.
"William." She said softly. "Little William Henry."
"What of his middle name?" Asked James.
It took Pellinore a moment to realize the words were directed at him.
"...James." He said.
Sarah snorted, but his assistant smiled, and leaned down towards his wife and newborn son.
"William James Henry, you're going to LOVE Pellinore Xavier Warthrop."

15. Trees

"I shall get to the top first!" Lilly proclaimed one day.
They were sitting in the backyard, her and Will, next to a large maple tree that seemed to touch the sky at it's highest branches.
Will, thinking of the time he had climbed that huge ice-coated evergreen, smiled. "No, that is going to be me."
Lilly scoffed. "Was that a challenge?!"
"Yes."
The two teenagers sat in silence for a minute, until Lilly got up.
"Alright. Winner gets the last bit of cocoa for hot chocolate, and the loser has to sit in horse dung for two minutes."
"That doesn't seem very fair."
Lilly touched her chin. "Chocolate as a reward and shit as a punishment? I think that's quite fair."
Will rolled his eyes. "Fine. You have a deal."
Lilly shook his hand, then within the blink of an eye had rolled up her skirts and climbed onto the first branch.
Will stared at her for a second, the sight of her smooth, pale legs catching him off guard. He stumbled into the tree, came to his senses, and followed his friend's lead. Within the span of 30 minutes they were almost to the top, in a fair tie.
Lilly had realized this and was scrambling to get there first, while Will calmly stepped his way up.
He suddenly heard a cry. Lilly had slipped, and was dangling, desperately trying to pull herself back up onto the branch.
Will side-stepped around the trunk, and stood on the branch causing her trouble.
"You'd better not gloat about this!" She growled.
"Who would I have to gloat to?"
He pulled the girl up onto the branch.
"For once it's not me saving YOUR arse." She sighed.
"I honestly prefer it the other way around." Will shrugged.
Lilly smiled.

16. Fairy

"OH, look, a fairy ring!"
Pellinore suppressed a groan. He looked to his assistant, who watched Lilly Bates in a daze.
Well he couldn't rely on Will around her...
"There are no such things as faeries." Pellinore said evenly.
Lilly looked at the Doctor and laughed. "There certainly are, you're just in denial."
Will opened his mouth; and apparently it was to make a comment in Lilly's defense because he shut it as soon as Pellinore looked at him.
"There is no physical evidence of their existence."
"Well I have something. It's called faith." Lilly declared, as if she had just made an inarguable point.
"I have something as well. It's called sanity."
Will Henry twisted his face in an attempt not to laugh, and Lilly looked as if she wanted to stomp on his foot.
"Fine, but when you find out they do indeed exist, don't gloat."
The Doctor smiled. "I won't. Because it's not going to happen."
Lilly glared at him, then Will, who gave her a look back.
"When I die, they shall dance upon my grave." Pellinore thought grimly.

17. Elf

Sergent Hawk sat across from the legendary Doctor Pellinore Warthrop- er, his son.
But close enough, right?
He knew his dear old mother would still have a mental breakdown if she saw him.
"OH, you're just as handsome as Alistair! she would gush, then feed him biscuits and pet that thick, tangled mane he called hair.
That's how his mother always reacted to meeting the people she told stories of, though.
But now this man, this dirty man across from him, was denying everything he had known to exist!
Vampires? No.
Werewolves? No.
Zombies? No!
Hell, even Wendigos -the very thing they were hunting for- didn't exist, according to the legendary Warthropian son!
So now, he was trying to come up with one thing, AT LEAST ONE THING, his mother hadn't lied about.
After a few minutes of deep thought, he came up with it.
"Elves!" He blurted.
The Warthropian son looked up from hands, irritation written in every line and peak in his face.
"Pardon?"
Hawk pulled up the courage that wasn't destroyed by the glare, and said "Elves. Real or no?"
The Doctor scoffed. "Of COURSE they're not real! What do you think this is, a damned fairy tail?!"
Hawk looked into the fire, disappointed once again by the man his mother would throw on a bed any day.
He then imagined a proud, beautiful woman with pointed ears and long strawberry colored hair riding in on a black stallion. She scooped up Hawk, and stuck her tongue out at Warthrop before they rode off into the bitter Canadian night together.
That's not what happened, obviously.
But that's how he wanted it to be.

18. Story

What Martha saw when she walked into the kitchen nearly made her drop her tea.
Alistair, out of the basement and sitting at the table?!
Praise God!
"Good morning, darling." She said, a smile brushing across her face.
Alistair simply grunted, which was good enough for her.
Mrs. Warthrop hustled across the small kitchen, grabbing a tin of scones she had picked up from the baker and setting it on the table.
"Want one?"
Alistair looked up from his book, and examined the raspberry pastries set before him. "I simply could not. They're your favorite."
Martha smiled. "I think I could spare one."
The Doctor snorted. "Are you kidding? You nearly cut Pellinore's hand off when he tried to take one of them."
Mrs. Warthrop gave his arm a smack. "How dare you suggest I would hurt our son!"
Her husband barely even acknowledged the blow. "I am merely stating a fact."
Martha sighed and sat across from him, taking one of the scones.
"Speaking of Pellinore," he continued "I think you should stop telling him stories."
The Doctor's wife nearly choked on her pastry. "Pardon?!"
"You heard what I said. No more stories. You're... you're giving him a misrepresentation of reality."
Martha snorted. "You're full of shit, Alistair."
"Physically impossible."
Martha, being used to the brick wall that was the man she married, laughed.
"What?" He asked.
"It's a figure of speech, love."
"I'm aware. I'm joking with you. But still, my point is he will grow up to be a dreamer."
"What is so bad about being a dreamer? He will write poetry when he grows up."
"Yes, and then never land a proper job, like mine."
"As if Monstrumology is a proper job!"
"Poetry isn't either. He will become impoverished."
"Then he shall find a lovely impoverished woman and have many impoverished children."
"Yes, and he shall name them My, Mother, Told, Me, Too, Many, and Stories."
Martha burst out laughing. "You're being ridiculous, Alistair!"
"Deep in your heart, you know it's the truth!"
"Even so, then his life will become a story!"
"Yes, a cautionary tale."
"A tale none the less."
"He, his wife, and their... 7 children shall live on the corner of the street. They'll probably roll cigarettes for a living!"
"At least we shall get to see our grandchildren everyday."
"Yes." Alistair cracked a small smile.
"Their names will be awkward, though. "Mother, Mother stole my doll!" Then Mother will cry, "You tell stories!", and she shall say "okay!" then run off to tell her brother. Then Pellie and his wife will sit there and regret naming their children anything."
The couple laughed loudly, attracting their son to the kitchen.
Alistair quickly piped down, but Martha kept giggling.
"What's so funny?" Asked Pellinore.
"You, My, Mother, Told, Me, Too, Many, and Stories." Said his Father.
Then his parents laughed once again.

19. Animals

"Sir, may I have a pet?"
I didn't expect the question to shock the Monstrumologist as much as it did; he actually started, dropped his scalpel, and looked me dead in the eye.
"What?"
"...I would like a pet."
"Whatever for?"
"Well, I think it'd be good to have one."
The Doctor let out a huff of breath. "What pet do you want, exactly?"
"I was thinking of... a dog, perhaps?"
"NO! Those things are so stupid and destructive, it would probably manage to knock over all of my specimen jars, eat their contents, vomit it all up, then eat that."
"...How about a cat?"
"It would just ignore you. Probably lay around the stairs all day, waiting for us to trip over it and break our necks. That's what happened to the woman across the street, remember? She tripped over her pet cat while walking downstairs, and snapped her neck like a twig."
I sighed. Was this REALLY the game we were going to play?
"A pig, then?"
"They're disgusting. Once I saw one rolling around in manure. Would you like that as a pet, Will Henry? A pig covered in horse shit?"
"No Sir... what about a goat?"
"Those will eat anything! Eat us out of this house, no doubt."
I was starting to get frustrated.
"A horse?"
"We have 3 of those!"
"Yes, but they aren't pets!"
"Yes they are!"
"We use them for traveling!"
"WILL HENRY, GO OUT AND LOVE YOUR PET HORSES, SNAP TO!"
"FINE!"
I stormed up the steps, stopping midway.
Wait, what?
I looked down at the Doctor, and I could swear I saw a smile on his face.

20. Emperor

"Citizens, this is a most honorary position, Emperor of the World. And for my first duty in this position, I shall make everybody equal under law! All skin tones, both sexes! Except murderers. Because they're bad."
A knock pounded upon the door.
Reggie sighed. "I'LL GIVE YOUR ROBE BACK IN FIVE MINUTES PAPA, LET IT GO!"