Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Chapter 3 is hereeeeee
Okay this tiny moonwalking Panda doesn't really have anything else to say in these bits apart from that only the story and Cora belong to her.
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Now, back to work on writing Round 3's chapter 13 while keeping my head held high from everyone becoming Undertale trash...
The next day, it's taking me a few old website tutorials to do so, but I'm making my very own breakfast for the first time, let alone in this place. Thankfully, Ed and Ell have stocked the house with plenty of food, but I can't help but feel kinda dumb for having to look up 'how to make toast' on google. I was seven years old when all these chorebots came out to the public and I rarely saw my parents cook anything.
After fumbling around with the knife while trying to learn how to spread jam on the bread, I sigh in relief at the decent breakfast I've made before setting it at the table.
I find myself missing the presence of my family; Laurie listening to music on her old iPod shuffle, dad going over the news with his screenie and mum always sneaking me that extra bit of bacon when the others aren't looking.
But at the same time...I'm not.
I realise as I slowly chew on my jam-spread toast that I'm not actually missing my family, but rather the feeling of them being around. That one point in the day where the subject of cola-smuggling is not to be talked about. Reminding myself that I'm on a break from the business, I practically inhale the rest of breakfast before washing up the dishes and placing them back where they were before.
I try to remember what I planned to do from last night, but I end up getting frustrated, cursing my short-term sleep memory. Maybe some of the other bedrooms would have something...
Coincidentally, I hear a door creak open and curiosity washes over me as I head inside without hesitation.
This time, the bedroom is mainly blue with a few old 'asdf' posters on the walls, framed photos and a metal compartment in the shape of a guitar, complete with retinal scanner. Taking a closer look at the framed photos, I realise that this is Thomas Ridgewell's bedroom. No, not my Uncle Thomas IV, I'm talking about the first one.
My phone beeps in my pocket, it's a pre-made text from Ed this time.
'Sup Cor! If ur reading this now, it's clear that ur in the 1st bedroom. Im pretty sure u had a look-around, so I wont go into that. After a bit of digging around, Ell and I found out that he had an electric bass in here, but we couldnt get 2 it. (Gee, I wonder were it could be.) Best of luck getting 2 it if u want 2.
'Also, I think Ell mentiond this earlier but Im creeped out by the house. I swear somethins up. Ell thinks otherwise, but call me if im right. And online. If im not…call Ell. Were betting half our savings on this.
'Ed.'
I smile at the text before replacing the phone back in my pocket, realising soon enough that I'm getting hyped over the bass. My eyes drift to the retinal scanner and I'm about to let my eyes be scanned, but I remember: the original Thomas Ridgewell had no eyes. Yet, he had access to that bass…because there was no data to open it.
There's no piece of black material anywhere to trick the scanner, so plan B has to do. Squinting my eyes shut, I try to move my eyeballs down and back a little into my head before imagining that I'm still seeing. Opening my eyelids, I feel the cool air going through my now totally-dark eye sockets, yet I still see clearly. Moving my face to the scanner, I ignore the urge to blink as the red light analyses downwards, attempting to collect data before the loading noises are heard.
'No data found,' the text on the screen says, 'Access granted.'
As I rub and blink my eyelids till I feel my eyeballs pop back into place, the door of the safe opens and the bass slides out of it from a display. My eyesight is now pretty blurry, despite my glasses on, but I manage to take the instrument off the pedestal and hold it gingerly-
"How did she do that?"
A shiver zips down my spine as I recognise disbelief and astonishment in the voice before managing to put its familiarity down as a younger version of...Uncle Thomas, actually...
"Come on," I pout, "Seriously?"
No answer.
I huff as I sit on the bed and lay the bass next to me before taking off my glasses and rubbing my eyes properly to clear up my sight.
Jeez…I hadn't done that in a while. Last time I used that ability was to scare the pants off one of Uncle Matthew's police colleagues when he wanted to question my family three months back. I became pretty out of practice from there, mainly because my eyeballs hurt after. When I stop rubbing them and blink a few times, everything is a lot clearer, but I still have to ignore the painful and irritating sting at the back of my head for the sake of going through the rest of the day.
I then pick up the bass and strum on the strings before grimacing at the realisation that it's out of tune. Remembering the tuning app in my phone, I pull it out and hook it up through the aux cord before opening it up and twisting the keys till the strings sound perfect. I then open up Garageband to the guitar amp and gently start to pluck the four-stringed electric instrument, holding my left hand in different places on the handle, trying to figure out random chords when I see the guitar pick buried under the tuning strings.
"Way to go, doofus," I mutter, annoyed that I didn't notice it earlier.
I absent-mindedly try to strum away chords like I did back when Emily and Haley tried to teach me in high school, when a small tune runs in my head and through the bass at the same time. It's a not a new tune either, literally a century old, but my mum still loves Human Nature by that MJ fellow to this day. So I spend a while trying to figure out the chords for the verses and chorus, before I hear my stomach grumble loudly.
'Lunch already?' I ponder, silencing the bass before unplugging it from my phone and replacing the instrument back in the compartment before it shuts itself. I was pretty distracted from the feeling when I was fiddling on the bass, but the feeling of someone watching me creeps up again as I can't help glancing behind me when I shut the door and leave.
The rest of the day is pretty much uneventful compared to the earlier anomalies. But they just can't seem to get out the back of my mind as I play on the Nintendo 64 for a while, especially since the TV somehow still works for me, have my first homemade lunch of marinated chicken drumsticks and dig around in the majestic pile of junk in the attic once more. Until I'm about to finish digging for the rest of the day.
It happens when the shimmer catches my eye. Moving the box of amassed PS2 games to the clear spot, I curiously pull away some of the junk that's covering it before attempting to yank it out. I pull and pull, grinning with grit as I see the corner come into view, followed by reflective opaque glass. When it's finally out of the junk, I'm in awe of the width of a mirror that is framed by solid gold.
'How did Ed and Ell not notice this?' I wonder.
Suddenly, the idea of hanging it in the lounge strikes me and I don't hesitate to start pushing it down the stairs.
A stupid mistake, as I lose my footing on one of the steps and fall to my face, gravity rapidly dragging the mirror down the stairs before reaching the floor and falling down glass-forward with a sickening thud.
Looking up in horror, I feel my heart racing over 1000 miles an hour, my chest feeling like its being squeezed tightly as I manage to stand up and shakily make the rest of the way down the stairs and over the mirror before standing it up again.
I heave a sigh of deep relief as my heart slows down and my chest relaxes when I see that the mirror hasn't shattered into a billion shards, instead remaining as one whole. Then I remember and laugh out loud: the entire floor downstairs is carpeted. Seven years of good luck didn't go down the drain of rotten four-leaf clovers after all.
After standing it up on a nearby wall that's clear of any furniture, my mind leaves of all thoughts of the mirror as I head back to the kitchen and make my first homemade dinner of battered fish and chips. But when dessert comes along, I give up on homemade and instead have a few tablespoons of ice cream straight from the tub. After washing the dishes, I'm barely awake when I ready myself for bed before burrowing under the green covers and fall into a deep sleep.