[As of July 3rd 2019, this chapter has gone through a new rewrite, with quite a few new, changed and elaborated details. I would very much love some feedback on this new version if you have the time, and I hope you like the new additions!]
Now the real story begins! This chapter officially marks the start of the narrative, yet we aren't into the musical numbers just yet. I don't want to spoil the story too much, so I'll just let this first chapter speak for itself. As well as its new protagonist...
Thank you to Trixygirl (one of my real life besties) and also to disneydork29175 for reviewing, and your feedback. You are helping me so much!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Seussical the Musical, the Dr Seuss genre or any of its characters. They belong to Lhynn Ahrens, Stephen Flathery, Ted Geisel and the Dr Seuss Enterprise. I only own Kirsty and the other original characters mentioned (including Ms Halter, Wesley, Cameron/ Mr C.A.T.).
I hope you enjoy, and please don't be afraid to leave a review!
~ Sophie
Chapter 1: Arrival by Hat
Rainy days, for children whose heads weren't already absorbed into technology or who weren't yet at an age where they could do for themselves whatever they pleased, were occasions ideal for daydreaming. The restless situation of having to stay confined indoors acted as the perfect spark for mischief or creative plans to be set free, and for newer, crazier things to be self-discovered for the first time.
However, to one seemingly insignificant one, they only meant one thing: it would be that much harder to finish a book that day.
That particular child - a fourteen year old teenage orphan girl- was brought back into her plain reality when a violent clap of thunder interrupted her self-lead tutoring session. Ever since she had arrived at one of the last standing 'orphanages' in the country at only a few days old, she'd never been able to shake the anxieties that storms brought her. Not the best fear to have, especially considering the city she'd lived in - or rather, was hidden in amongst - for all of her memorable life span. The few things she knew of Melbourne were from the pages of her small reading collection, and from the few windows high enough to catch a glimpse of the city's central district a short distance from their suburb.
"And to think I would finally get up to the final chapter this morning…I should have known I was asking too much…"
Her idealities fleeing her, she swiftly stood up from her resting spot on the windowsill, as her mind returned to the duties of the day ahead. She frantically rescued her book from the sudden wet onslaught, returning it, still unfinished, to her hiding spot beneath the floorboards. These rare, quiet moments - with her few non-fiction novels from the now banned attic- were the only chance she had of furthering her knowledge. All the children who'd ever stayed at the orphanage (minus herself) reached, at oldest, ten years old before being either adopted or relocated, so the classes offered didn't extend beyond that level. If it wasn't for her first, and only trip - after being banned by the facilities head Ms Halter - to the upper floor attic, the teenager would have been stuck with only month old catalogue collections to broaden her mind. Stopping at the beginning of the floor's staircase, she paused her robotic form of moments. The exact reason why she had been bared from the attic had never been given or hinted to her, though she didn't dare try to defy Ms Halter's orders. It had just been added to the long list of questions and occurrences that Ms Halter had refused to elaborate or give a clear enough answer to.
"Including the whole situation of me still being here after fourteen years, without a single offer of adoption…"
'Didn't we move past these triviality at age five?' a voice which circled around her head groaned in response. The teenager's heart sunk upon the arrival of its familiar, unsympathetic tone, constantly prepared for its overhanging speeches. 'You already know the answer to that useless question. Or did you think it had changed, like everything else in your life suddenly decided to do?'
Except it hadn't been answered, she almost wanted to reply. At least not verbally. But she didn't have the courage to question anyone or anything about her situation, let alone a sarcastic voice inside her head which wasn't even her own. Her own voice hushed, defeated, retuning to its typically silenced state. And, like a old puppet controlled by strings, she returned to her routine tasks, her mind empty as she set to clean the entire building.
She hated herself for even bringing up the questions she did time and time again to herself, a tinge of hope and dreams managing to remain within her despite her efforts. She'd thought she'd moved on, the 'hope' of ever experiencing the outside world- let alone a life as part of a family - only leading to disappointment and confusion every time another child went out the front door instead of her. The young girl was as permanent a fixture in the orphanage as the peeling wallpaper which coated the walls of the upper walls of the four story building. She had been crafted to not cause a fuss, to exist without notice in its cracks and shadows. Nothing in the facility itself was dangerous or peculiar enough to cause any immediate concern, so why would one teenager - who had overstayed the average welcome of six years stay before adoption- cause any alarm bells?
"Watch where ya running!" an older voice grunted, directed at the small group of seven year olds who'd tried to claim the area underneath the ground level stairs. The cook, who already appeared irritated despite it only being ten in the morning, shooed them swiftly all up the stairs. "This rain ain't doing nothing for my stress levels. First the crazy rain to make all the kids go loopy, then one of the damn high ups making a surprise visit! I'm definitely staying clear of the boss today…"
When they returned to the dinner room, the teenager separated herself from the shadows on the walls, her presence not being noticed by anyone. As she continued her work, she would catch glimpses of a few of the younger children - obviously new, she noted - staring at her. They didn't say anything to her, quickly becoming distracted by a collection of joyful yells from one of the far rooms, and as quickly forgetting she was even there. Their gawking didn't faze her in the slightest, some confused looks or a accidental push being the most interaction she ever got with any of the other orphans housed here nowadays. She used to have one or two that would talk to her, but they were quickly snatched up by adopters after they arrived or purposely moved away to be with other groups of children. With these children now, she didn't feel she related much to them at all, aside from the whole 'without-parents' predicament. Not to mention she had built herself with a fear of speaking or interacting with anyone.
"Did you come here just to annoy me or did you actually have a purpose to your little visit, Wesley?"
The young girl looked up from her polishing, the replaying of Ms Halter's familiar sharp and frigid tone causing her to snap brutally out of her period of solitude. The teenager's body tensed up again, before quietly stepping back into the shadows, keen not to make her spying appear at all obvious.
Ms Halter's position as head of operations and founder of the orphanage could be assumed immediately, her worn eyes and early forming grey hairs indicating a long career with children attached to it. On the flip side, her stern and proper appearance was also littered with confidence and stability. With every glance and step she made, she firmly placed herself as a woman of power and high esteem in all people's perceptions.
Beside her was a man that the teenager didn't facially recognised, yet instantly knew he most certainty wasn't a 'hopeful-parent-to-be'. The suit wearing, clone government official was as straight cut as the regular carousel who went through the buildings doors. Yet he looked young enough to see that this position was nothing more a pit stop on his route to a more desirable promotion. However, his presence at the orphanage that particular day was cause for intriguing question. He looked far too casual to be on an official visit, and the last routine inspection had occurred only a few pays prior. Not to mention the detail that only one who knew the daily affairs of the orphanage better than even themselves, in that Ms Halter was spending an rather elongated time outside of her office. Despite being in control of the entire place, she made a large amount of effort to keep the legwork to other government lackeys, or the facility's small staff of rotating employees.
In short…the teenager's curiosity had been surprisingly pricked alight.
"Like you, ma'am, I do prefer to keep our visits brief," the suited man - Wesley - replied, his voice wooden and plain. "However, this unusual matter couldn't wait until our next scheduled meeting in a fortnight's time."
Wesley reached into the inside of his jacket, taking out a long rectangular envelope and holding it out to Ms Halter, awkwardly waiting for the older woman's response.
"Even a simple letter is now proving too much for your department too handle," she muttered, attempting to suppress a sigh of irritation. "So then, what is it in regards to? It better not be another funding cut. Your staff should know by now I am not a fan of unnecessary paperwork."
Ms Halter's eyes flickered, her ears picking up a minor creak in the floorboards. She swiftly looked to the staircase, the area before her seemingly empty like the rest of the ground level of the building.
The teenager who had only just narrowly hidden herself, her body now parallel with the short corner wall at the top of the stairs, gripping it tightly in an attempt to get her fear-filled body back under her own control. When a mutter escaped Ms Halter's lips, her attention back on Wesley, the young girl plucked up the courage to peak ever so slightly around the corner again.
"I don't know, ma'am. I haven't read it—"
"You haven't WHAT?!"
Ms Halter's anger flared up her physical presence, the woman's rage-fuelled dominance driving Wesley to shrink up against the wall. "You mean to tell me that you came down here, interrupting my first coffee of this disgusting, rain-filled day to give me a so-called 'important' letter you haven't even look at yet?!"
It took a few seconds for Wesley to form proper words, the man knowing he needed to tread lightly. "If I may say, ma'am…we have in fact look at the letter. Profusely, in fact." He managed to stand up straight again, yet despite his attempt to regain a professional and in command stance, the sight looked more like a timid schoolboy meeting the headmistress than anything else. "Like all outside correspondence that we get sent to pass on to you, we read and inspect it….and let's just say, this was a first for our department. When they first looked at it, those who saw it said they couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see a single word when I read it. However, as it got passed through our department, the contents kept changing. Some swore they saw odd things on the paper, mostly just coloured lines or made-up gibberish. And so, that's why we resorted to giving it to you personally, so you could read it for yourself. After all, that's what it said to do…on the envelope."
Tucking in a stray black-grey strand behind her ear, and stepping a few strides apart from Wesley, Ms Halter went silent as she opened the envelope, taking out the main piece of paper inside. Unlike the previous attempts that Wesley mentioned, the paper this time appeared to have writing on it. Following Wesley's advice, Ms Halter slowly read it, her face moulding into an expression which couldn't easily be read. When she finally folded the letter back up, presumably having read the letter in its entirely, no words immediately left Ms Halter's mouth, eyes wide, as if she was still taking in the paper's contents.
"What do you call this rubbish?! ! I don't have time to waste on this stupid attempt of what your people call humour! You bet I am going to have more than a few choice words to the Minister about this!"
Hastily scrunching up the letter, Ms Halter slammed the paper ball into the bin, along with the envelope. She then proceeded to shove the now frantic Wesley into the direction of her office, her shrill voice continuing to echo even through the closed wooden door.
For the minute or two after Ms Halter and Wesley's dramatic exit, the hidden third witness to the scene which unfolded in the first floor remained unable to even move. While she struggled utter any verbal sound to express herself, her eyes spoke loudest of all, their wideness causing the teenager's face to become slightly sore from the unfamiliar feeling. She told herself that her best option was to continue working, to forget what she saw and count herself lucky that she - for once - wasn't on the receiving end of Ms Halter's wrath. That is what she had trained herself to do.
Yet…she still hadn't left the stairs.
Instead, a new, outspoken and believed to be dead aspect of her mind started to boil up through her. Instead of negative words or messages urging her to conform, her head instead was brimming with curiosities and running though an endless flow possibilities, some possible but most…insane, to say the least.
All because of that letter.
Without even realising it, the teenager had rushed over to the bin, her hand immediately going for the now crumpled letter, as well as its envelope. She sat herself in the gap between the bottom of the stairs and the right most side of the hallway, hands tingling, desperate to know what that letter held. Even if she couldn't read what it held for Ms Halter, the ideas of what it could show to her eyes and what it could all possibly mean were enough for her in that moment.
Unable to contain herself, she continuously turned the envelope in her hands, studying it even more than her worn-out encyclopaedias. Its white paper was ever so slightly iridescent, its only other noticeable features being a red and white marbled wax seal on its back, and Ms Halter's full name scrawled on the front. The handwriting almost made her chuckle, each of the letters written in such a childlike and untamed way while trying to appear mature and sophisticated.
With a gentle touch, she slowly picked up the scrunched-up letter and unfolded it, even with its dents its surface holding the same glow and mystical qualities as the envelope. When it was straighten to the best of its ability, the teenager set her eyes on the page, surprised when a full written message appeared before her. She slowly proceeded to read it, each sentence playing through her mind as if the writer was personally narrating to her.
"Warmest greetings Glena Halter, hope your students are swell,
"I today present you an offer too stupendous to sell.
"As a gift we present, to both the children and you,
"A invitation to our new theme park called Kalamazoo!
"With rides to suit all, filled with fun to the max,
"And with our staff at the charge, you can chill and relax,
"The whole place is indescribable, with so much for you to see,
"And the best of our offer is that it comes with no fee!
"We will look after everything across your stay of seven days,
"And we'll even pick you up so you'll never loose your ways.
"If this offer appeals, then please don't waste time,
"All we need is your name at the tail end of this rhyme.
"So please quickly pack your bags to leave at a quarter past three.
"Sincerely, the Manager,
"Mr. C.A.T."
Of all she'd imagined to be on that paper, a fully planned rhyme wasn't even close to her list.
She kept re-reading the piece of paper, the words that resided there just as captivating and indescribable to her as they had been the first time they'd skated throughout her thoughts.
Noticing more carefully the forth last line, her body seemed to frantically act against her head, as her hand rapidly grabbed a pen from her pocket and writing a copy of Ms Halters signature in the empty space. After her hazed moment, the teenager shook her head at her own actions, firmly understanding that the letter probably didn't mean anything true.
"Let's hope that little rebellious act finally quells my curiosities before they get me in ACTUAL trouble..."
As she delicately folded the letter up, the teenager's newly emerged wonder took a more intrigued and puzzled turn. While she did think that the letter most likely was fake, she had to acknowledge the truths in the matter. She had seen with her own eyes when Ms Halter's expression visibly changed when she looked inside the envelope, and the fact that Ms Halter immediately discarded the letter, was enough to make her mind spin. Not even bills or useless adverts escaped a residence on Ms Halter's desk for at least a week, so what about this one piece of paper that would make Ms Halter so desperate to get rid of it? Could she have been…scared? Could she know the person who this letter was from? What did it all mean?
"Just…think…"
"Spying again, are we?"
The teenager jolted up, her mind still coming back to reality even when Ms Halter's stern eyes directly met hers. Gripping the younger girl by the scruff of her neck, she forcefully dragged her towards her office, before snatching back the letter from the child's weak grasp.
Overwhelming fear and regret instantly surpassed her short lived state of liberation, the teenager's voice of 'reason' quickly reclaiming its iron rule over the teenager's thoughts.
'Now you're in for it. You just HAD to speak those words out loud, didn't you? Hopefully now you'll stop questioning why you decided to limit expressing any forms of imagining to 'as less, preferably not at all, as daily possible'.'
The thumping of Ms Halter's thin stiletto heels on the ancient timber floors, and the proceeding slamming of the door behind her, brought Wesley back to instant - amid still shaken- attention.
"It's your lucky day, Wesley. You're off the hook on this one. I believe I have just found the culprit of this little prank…"
Wesley showing arched his eyes up, catching sight of the lanky and petrified teenager. He scoffed, taking a large gulp of coffee before responding. "Glena, I hardly think a mute child would have anything to gain from —"
"Need I remind you the thin conditions that are allowing you to even be standing under my roof," Ms Halter's voice gradually softened to an uncomfortable hiss, easily ignoring Wesley. Upon throwing the now crumpled letting onto her desk, she grabbed a hold of the young girl's chin rigidly, forcing the shivering teenager to look straight at her unchanging, fierce eyes. "I figured that you'd finally learnt your lesson since your last incident, but I seem proven in my belief that you are—"
"Uh...G-Glenda...?"
Taking in a long sigh from gritted teeth, Ms Halter's shoulders tensed, her patience running thin. "This had better be important, Wesley..." As she awaited his answer, her gaze remained fixated on the young girl in front of her. Instead of an response however, she was met with the man only able to produce stuttering forms of letters.
"Oh for heaven's sake, spit it out, Wesley!"
However, before he could even take another breath, one clear, loud sound echoed repeatedly through the entire three story building, halting each of the three people's thoughts. On a morning which none could think could get any more unordinary, or be able to hold any more outlandish occurrences- more than had even crossed the orphanage in years combined-, this small moment was the most possible, yet entirely impossible, thing to happen that entire day.
The doorbell rang.
"What's so crazy about a doorbell? It's just ringing."
"Wesley, the doorbell can't be ringing because we've NEVER HAD a doorbell!"
On the outer side of the door, all that could be heard were frantic muffles of a pair of voices, which altered in their volume as they argued against each other. Their clarity lessened as they made their way to the door-handle, the growing voices and curiosities of children hurdling downstairs drowning the adult's ones out. All noise paused for a few moments when the two figures reached the stained glass door, the shorter one of the pair running back to open and then lock a door close by before returning to the inside of the entrance.
Upon opening the door, the silence remained, Ms Halter and Wesley faces of confusion shifting gradually into ones of disillusionment, as if the reveal of the visitor at the open door was dramatically more mundane than they had anticipated. Although the standard from the day had been put incredibly high, so if it were any other day that he had arrived on their doorstep, the stranger himself would have been seen more peculiar than he did now.
As for the man they were critiquing, a smile of slight amusement crossed his face, while appearing somewhat oblivious to all the commotion his simple act had caused. The stranger was younger looking than them both, though he was dressed as if he'd just stepped out of his grandfather's wardrobe from the fifties, and brought back a version of the man in his place. In saying this, however, his outfit wasn't incredibly outlandish, with his his thin diagonally red and white striped tie, along with the slight showing of his black, white and red swirled socks, being the only spots of colour amongst him dull toned ensemble.
He was so obviously dated and standoffish against the twenty first century surroundings, yet his look perfectly fitting his aura to a tee.
"Excuse me…my name is Mister Cameron André Theophrastus. I take it you would be Ms Glena Halter, the owner of this establishment?"
His question seemed to be rhetorical, and a mere formality to appear polite, as he quickly continued with his speech without any hesitation.
"Let me first say that we are so very excited to see that you have accepted our invitation. And, if I may say, lovely penmanship by the way. Our deepest apologies for the late notice, but if it helps, my organisation is wiling to provide extra compensation to all your staff alongside the all expenses paid excursion—"
"Accepted?" Wesley cut in, still recovering from his spluttering reaction. "We only just read the damn thing?! No one signed anything!"
"But isn't this her signature?"
Cameron put his hand out to them, in it the exact letter that had been sent to the orphanage, crinkles and all, with Ms Halter's name clearly placed at the bottom. When Ms Halter took it from his, a cheesy, pleased smile formed on the visitor's face. Promptly folding in his navy blue spindly umbrella, Cameron let himself inside, not at all fazed by his hosts' flabbergasted displays. He took off his smoke-grey woollen overcoat, eyes lighting up as he observed the orphanage's historic interiors.
"You're early. It's not even close to three."
As Wesley continue his shellshocked expression, it could be seen that Glena's attitude had made a change in tone in the passing two minutes. Gone was her frazzled, unnerved perspective on the letter and everything which followed after it, her stern and straight-faced demeanour returning in full force to address the eccentric, and now skipping man, in front of her.
"It isn't?" Cameron's voice took on a slightly embarrassed and ashamed tone, slowly turning back to face Ms Halter. Brow furrowing, Cameron adjusted his small, round glasses, scrunching up his nose as he profusely checked to see if his wrist watch, or any of the multiple other watches hidden amounts his outfit, had stopped. His eyes soon caught sight of something behind the judging pair, his face changing to a small yet pleased smile.
"Well, your clock seems to think that it is."
Ms Halter was the first to follow Cameron's gloved hand, the man pointing to the clock which adorned the archway in the middle of the hallway. At first glance, it was - as Ms Halter knew and assumed - was still yet to reach eleven. However, a scoff half not even half way out of her throat, she was forced to do a double take, as both her and Wesley saw the clock instantly jolt to three o'clock. As they each frantically looked to all the other time showing objects in site, the same feat repeated itself, every clock changing itself to three in the space of an eye blink.
As the man resumed his flittering movements across the floorboards, Ms Halter leaned her head slightly to Wesley, who was now walking directly beside her.
"Are you sure you didn't find anything on him? Where did it say he was from again?" Her eyes continued to remain on their visitor, who was now talking to some of the children who had made their way downstairs, each entranced by the stranger's tricks.
"The park is apparently called 'Kalamazoo', ma'am," Wesley whispered in reply. "I swear, we had half the company searching up this place in their lunch breaks. We had sources on every social media platform and back alley conspiracy forum trying to source stuff about them. Nothing came up, at all. This guy's got to be some sort of underground scam artist or foreign mole. Either that, or he's just madman, a wack-job…or some sort of—"
Halting his bounding movements, Cameron fiercely did a one-eighty on the heels of his burgundy tinged dress shoes. He rapidly tilted his body downward, his now ominous eyes only inches apart from the now wide eyed and sweating government official directly in front of him.
"If you need proof of my legitimacy, you are more than welcome to fact check my resume."
Almost seamlessly, Cameron took out a paper folder from in-between his suit jacket, holding it right in the middle of the very thin gap between them. Dropping it into the shorter man's hands, he put some distance between them, Wesley soon flustering his way through the documents in his possession.
"Well, Glena, he does seem to be genuine, despite the….oddity of it all…." Wesley's previously jealous tone had now shifted to something closer to impressed, nodding his head as he looked over everything.
Her face still expressionless, she looked over Wesley's shorter shoulder, her glance landing at one particular paper, which contained a map reference and address for the visitor's establishment. She looked back up at Cameron for some time, who merely smiled at her lightly, awaiting her response.
"I'll get the children ready for you. Everyone should be ready in an hour or so. Of course, I will also need some time to finalise all the paperwork before their departure. And I will have to properly notify the department."
"Of course," Cameron bowed his head lightly, returning to a more professional guise. "My two associates will be available to assist you in any way you require them."
For the first time since he appeared at their doorstep, Ms Halter noticed two other men standing at either of Cameron's sides, each almost two foot shorter than their six foot tall boss. Like Cameron, their outfits also were rather jumbled, the pair wearing coordinating burgundy and maroon coloured schoolboy-like outfits, with their slightly differently styled black hairstyles - with oddly natural tinges of midnight blue coursing throughout - breaking their vintage illusion.
Immediately, the pair followed Ms Halter as she opened the door to her office, Glena not disputing how they had remained unnoticed under her dubious eye. Before exiting the hallway, she muttered a few words to the couple of staff members whose attention had been brought to all the commotion, each of them instantly scuttling away to their tasks of business. Wesley quickly followed into the office, still fixated by everything which the folder contained.
"Glena, you've got to have a look at this! This guy's got reviews of support from almost every major international entertainment outlet and educational government agency. There's even recommendations from—" He squinted his eyes at the papers, mouth widely gaped even as he just managed to shut the door behind him. "Wait…i-is that Chuck Jones?!"
When the door finally clicked, Cameron let out a gentle sigh, letting so of the hold this professional display was having over him as he sat down on a chair close by. Without any further utterance, he observed the now bustling happenings of the orphanage, only giving a smile or a wave to any passing children who managed to notice him. As the piles of children stampeded up the stairs to their rooms, their anticipated chatter dissipating slightly the further they went up, his eyes caught sight of a figure, watching him silently from the side of the staircase. When he forced himself to look again, the figure had disappeared, replaced only by soft footsteps scampering away.
He turned his head back to the walls of the hallway, less than a minute afterwards being when he flinched slightly, upon seeing a cup of tea on the accent table beside him, and the slim fingers still attached to it. As they shakily released the china cup, he noticed that their left hand and fingers were covered by an assortment of fabrics, fresh and old strands arranged to resemble a makeshift gloves of sorts. Surprised, he looked up, his rising head movement matching the eye movement of the person holding the cup, who he assumed was the same figure who had been watching him from the stairway.
There wasn't anything particularly striking or astonishingly noteworthy at all about the child's physical appearance, he immediately noticed. While she appeared relatively clean and healthy - despite her build being more on the skinny side - the impression she gave off, made more obvious by her grey shaded attire and paler than usual blonde hair, made Cameron think it was as if she was an old plastic flower that had been forgotten in its vase, only being brought out on the odd occasion. Each petal now a light whitish-grey, with only the slightest tinge of the rose pink left to remind people of its previous colour. Odd analogies aside, it seemed the longer he pondered her, the more an uncommonly felt emotion began to flow through all his very being.
However, it was when his attention caught itself onto something sparkling across her neckline where his permanent grin slipped a few degrees downwards. At the end of an old, silver coloured chain he found a small, locket charm, which was in the peculiar shape of a top hat. From the outset, the locket appeared somewhat malfunctioned and bent beyond recovery, the colour drained completely from all corners of its design. Once shiny and precious, now dulled by years of abandonment, lost days and sorrow...similar in ways it would seem to its owner.
"Excuse me… Mr. Theophrastus? We have the main paperwork ready for you to look over now."
Upon hearing the loud clicking of the office door, Cameron's attention came back to him. His reddish brown eyes flicked up from the teacup, the young girl - who had been standing in absolute frozen silence during his few seconds of observation - having completely disappeared, the only other person in the hallway being Ms Halter. Freshly emerged from her office, and with a much needed coffee in her hand, she appeared much more agreeable than the passing hour or so had shown her as.
"How many children do you have in this establishment?" he asked, his voice a little more subdued than before.
"At most times, we have a bit under fifty children in more permanent accomodation, with about twenty short time slots for those moving between locations or waiting for their papers to be finalised. All of the children currently staying here, which is around forty-two presently, will be attending this little excursion." she explained, a small, natural smile creating onto her face. "If you are interested in adoption or foster care, I have all the files of all the available children right on me in my office. Of course, we'd need to arrange appointments for a later time to start the process formally. Have you seen any which you may wish to consider?"
His attention still floating about, Cameron tried his best to survey the masses of children coming down the stairs with their luggage. He counted the exact number which Glena had mentioned, however the girl he had previously seen was not at all to be spotted in amongst the group.
"What about her?"
At first, Ms Halter didn't seem to register his question, until she realised where the visitor was looking towards. In an instant, her smile dropped and her gaze went cold again, upon noticing the child she knew he was speaking about, who was currently taking luggage and personal belongings down the staircases.
"I wouldn't waste your time on her. Trust me, there's many a reason why every single one of her adoption attempts have fallen through, in the few that she has even gotten. No other facilities or agencies have agreed to take her… not even the country's government are willing to put her into the larger system."
"In the eyes of the rest of the world, she might as well not even exist."
It hadn't taken long at all from when the three visitors had entered the building for the entire orphanage to be ready and racing out the door for their unexpected, seemingly 'too fantastical to be true' trip. The very swift pace could have been due to the mere gossip of what this infamous and extravagant 'Kalamazoo' held in its gates, or maybe due to how enthusicaticly -or perhaps, with such urgency- Cameron and his associates got everything and everyone sorted to leave. The doubts surrounding the letter, its contents and the three men themselves seemed to be forgotten by the time departure came, even when their impressive mode of transportation was revealed as the outside door opened again. Even a peek from the closest windows could not show it in its entirety, anyone still left inside having to settle for the gasps and excited voices outside to help paint a mental picture of the mysterious vehicle.
And of course, as it would on this 'uncanny' kind of a day…it had completely stopped raining.
After his associates, the orphanages's main staff and their charges had raced out the door, the head of the visiting trio found himself lingering at the entrance. Just as he had passed a second long enough to wage curiosity, the odd man gave a wink to the now silent building, before closing the door behind him.
Ms Halter, as usual, was the last to leave the building. She gave one last soul reaching stare across the bottom floor, perhaps longer than she needed to, before shutting and locking the final and front door behind her. It was a silent, inconspicuous message, but so was all of the language that had developed between her and the person it was directly meant for.
A master and its forever invisible, and now obsolete, prisoner.
As no surprise to the one child who had been left of the excursion list, Wesley had been ordered by Ms Halter to keep watch of her for the night. He was less than taking to the task at first, however became more compliant when Ms Halter told him that she would make sure to keep her recent problems with him out of the light from his department if he stayed. He ended up taking his leave an hour or so after they all left, also not a surprise to the now unsupervised minor. An awkward one-way exchange, Wesley's dubious looks for security cameras, and the locking of front door from the outside…and like that, she was now literally alone.
This wasn't the first time she'd been left by herself, but probably the first where she'd been left alone this long. Or, at least from her memory, long enough that she actually felt close to bored, as she now had nothing really else she could do. She'd been wondering about that right before she found herself looking up from on the flooring of the stair landings, the gap between the staircases the perfect spot for watching the slow sunset pass. This peace, this rare and quiet time to herself which was really the only thing she allowed herself to dream about, she knew would probably be broken in the morning. When Wesley or another one of the same government lackeys would come and check on her before promptly leaving again.
"Doesn't mean I can't at least relish in it for the short time it and I have together…"
However, the longer she stared up into the nothingness above, the more her head started to get crowded. All of the conversation Ms Halter'd had with the stranger, and more so the context each word she'd spoken contained, had been floating round and round her mind, and nothing seemed to shake it. She'd dealt with feelings of rejection and loneliness countless times, but this was different. This time it wasn't just the voice occupying a space of her mind anymore.
This time, she'd heard all it for herself.
She'd never known the extent of her adoption history - to be honest, she didn't even think she had one after the age of eight. When the day began, she didn't think she would ever know, not even if she made it out of this place…let alone today, of all days. It was after the stranger had first mentioned her to Ms Halter, the older lady had brought him alone into her office, to give him the expanded answer to her initial description of the teenager. And, against all her better instinct, the teenager had managed to listen in.
And did she regret it.
Cancelled adoptions at the very last minute, legal troubles, adoptions fallings through for reasons streaming from financial reasons to seemingly 'change of heart'. And, in the latest cases, reconsideration due to behavioural issues or unexplained risks to the outside community.
All this time she had thought that, maybe, there was a easy reason why she never much got the attention of the dream to-be parents which walks through the doors. That maybe it was a government mistake, or that all this waiting was due to her being considered for adoption in a long legal case. Or that there were small reasons that she could easily work out to make her the child people wanted.
But this…it was all clear cut facts, all of it, in actual, legitimate writing. It had substance, proof, and came from other people. Other people who would know the important and worthy of time and love. People who lived out in the world, and knew what love and family meant, and what you needed to do, or be, to be have this. And to them, she was never it.
Not her. Never to be her.
A echoing shatter tore her from her thoughts, and flashed her eyelids open. She didn't think she would have fallen asleep so early, especially in a place which wasn't her own bed, but she just put it to the off-routine day she'd had. As she started the movements to lift herself up from the ground, the tips of her fingers moving against a rough, age-torn wood surface made her freeze up in confusion.
"Didn't I fall asleep near the stairs…where there was carpet?"
"And, more importantly - her mind wondered as she managed to adjust her vision enough to see the main features of her current location - how did I manage to get myself up into the attic?"
Gradually, the girl stood up, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible against the creaking, most likely dilapidated floorboards beneath her. If she had come here under probably any other preceding circumstances, she wouldn't have hesitated in looking through every box, cupboard and old suitcase without any inch of self control. Especially considering the nagging other voice in her head had surprisingly vanished all of a sudden. But, right now, with these exact questions in her head, all the teenager wanted to do was to remember where the exit was.
"Wait…what caused that shatter sound when I woke up? Could there be—"
Without warning, a massive shift in the air vibrated itself across the entire room, like someone had just slammed all the doors at once but without making even a whisper of noise. The shock made the girl flinch so heavily that she had to grip onto wall in front of her to keep her from slipping over. At first, she didn't want to look behind her, the thought of a burglar or some other type of fearful criminal intruder instantly entering her mind. But when she did, she didn't know what to think at all. Or if even her idea of thinking was even the right reaction to the sight in front of her.
A hat.
The tall top hat itself looked like it had been crafted straight from the mind of a toddler, its slightly misshapen and sketch-like stye incredibly jarring against the room's straight edged interiors. Its aged yet bright coloured fabric seemingly illuminated the large, previously pitch black attic space, the spotlight effect making the room appear more like a stage than a boarded-up attic. In a way there was too much that could be expressed about the outwardly simple object, but what caught the teenager's attention the most was the pattern all across it. Two slightly uneven white stripes in between three thick red ones. The same stripes that had resided on the peculiar visitor's tie, and that adorned the seal of the oddly written letter. And just like the letter, she was instantly drawn to find out more about it, and how - and it could only be how - they all connected.
As she tiptoed towards the hat, the girl remained vigilant, stopping occasionally and spinning all around her in case this ended up being some kind of trick or trap. Her vision started to haze, her body titling inches from side to side as her coordination started to fail her. She persisted none the less, the new obstacle only making her more determined and eager to get closer to it.
When she was just about right over the top of the hat, she stopped. The entire room hovered, like an orchestra hanging on a note, waiting grippingly for her cue. A sudden surge of confidence caused her right index finger to softly touch the tip of the hat. She recoiled straight after, the hat immediately disappearing from its spot from the ground. In its place formed a shimmering trail, it floating upwards in twirling shapes, before vanishing right over her head.
Brow furrowed, she stared unnerved at the now empty, yet still lit up circle spot where the hat once stood, sensing something forming behind her. The straightening up of fabrics, a restrained chuckle, and the brush of something furry against the pricks of her neck confirmed her suspicions, her gaze gradually following where she assumed the hat went. When she turned, her eyes just stared, motionless as her mind was left to observe what caught her eyes next.
Two dark red eyes, with threads of black swimming through them, staring right at her.
A amused, cheshire-cat like smile, with feline teeth and all.
And the hat, now perfectly placed atop the head of—
A…cat.
A six foot tall, formal attire wearing, human-like, black cat.
"Why, hello there….Kirsty…."