I do not own Coraline. Coraline and its characters belong to Neil Gaiman and Henry Selick.

Authors note:

Hey, y'all, this is my first fanfic about Coraline, I usually use other sites to publish stories so I'm pretty new to publishing here. This is the prologue to the story so a bit of an introduction to Coraline's feelings using part of the original script of the movie.

I hope you all will like it :)

Prologue

Dull. That was the only word that could perfectly describe Coraline's life since the day she moved to Oregon.

The Pink Palace was a mockery of its name, as if it wanted nothing more but to persuade the perspective of other people into thinking that living in any of those apartments would make your life seem more "pink". Oregon, a state notorious for its diverse landscapes and scenic topography didn't know anything more than a dreadfully boring grey environment. At this time of the year, nothing but mud and dead vegetation surrounded the young 11-year-old girl. Which in itself wasn't a problem as she loved to get messy, dirt was her true companion as she explored the surroundings of her now, and probably forever "home". Maybe this place isn't so bad. But god, how she missed Michigan. Her daily routine, her friends, and even school. Coraline found a bush and grabbed a branch, which now was a dowsing rod wanting to find a water well.

As she did that, she encountered Wybie who almost scared her to death with his dumb horn and motorcycle. At last, she found the well.

-See? Supposed to be so deep if you fell to the bottom and looked up, you'd see a sky full of stars in the middle of the day.

Said Wyborne to Coraline, huh, that was an interesting and dumb theory from the village stalker.

And without knowing before, now she had a fresh poison oak rash on her hand. Why couldn't he say that it was poisonous from the beginning? So annoying.

And couldn't her parents choose a better place to move into? Maybe not a decaying old flat in the middle of the woods, something more modern maybe? But no, of course not. What were their parents' jobs again? Ah, yes, to write catalogs and magazines about gardening and plants. Coraline always wondered why they even bothered writing about things that required them to actually go outside. Her parents, to put it bluntly, were addicted to their work. Workaholics that seemed to only have one purse in life and that was to stare at a screen until their bodies told them to eat, sleep, go to the washroom, or take care of their daughter.

- I almost fell down a well yesterday, Mom.

Coraline said while placing the packages of seeds over the window frame, looking annoyed that her mother seemed to care more about her laptop than about her daughter.

Mel, too busy to listen properly to her child just answer bluntly.

-Uh-huh.

-I would have died.

-That's nice.

Said Mel without taking her gaze from her screen. Coraline wondered why she even bothered. She wanted to talk with her mom, why couldn't she make a little bit of time just for her? The worst part is that they very obviously don't like their job at all.

-I can't believe it. You and Dad get paid to write about plants and you hate dirt.

Said Coraline incredulously at her mother.

Mel was starting to lose her patience with her daughter.

-Coraline, I don't have time for you right now. And you still have to unpack to do. Lots of unpacking.

Coraline grumbled between her teeth.

Mel told Coraline something before she would forget. She gave the young girl a package that came from the apparently weird kid that lived nearby, and as she opened it, she. She saw the note.

-Hey Jonesy, look what I found in Gramma's trunk. Look familiar? Wybie.-

She saw it, the doll.

-A little me?

Her yellow coat, pale skin, blue hair, and big black button eyes. It was her. A little Coraline doll! That was certainly not creepy at all. Though Coraline sarcastically. However, to be honest, it was curious, the amount of detail that went into it would make anyone think that it was the work of a serial stalker. Of a person that only knew about her, like a best friend, or a very close relative of hers, like a parent. But Coraline didn't have much thought to it. Maybe it was her boredom, but this toy was the most interesting object she has had so far.

She took off from the kitchen to go and talk with her dad, perhaps he would pay some attention to her and let her do some gardening. Where were the gardening tools again? She would have to ask him that too.

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Count all the windows, and list everything blue. Just, let me work.

So much for wanting some quality time with Dad. Coraline signs heavily wondering why she even bothered in the first place. Hopefully, there'll be an infinite hallway with an infinite amount of windows so she'll be busy for eternity and not have to die of boredom. And so, she started counting, going from room to room, exploring her new, old home.

Twelve leaky windows.

Twelve disgusting bugs.

One boring blue boy.

Four incredibly dull windows.

And no more doors…

...where did the doll go. Behind the box? And behind the box was a tiny door! Where did it go and why is so small? The young girl begged her mother to open the door only to find that it was all bricked up. She didn't get it. Bummer.

Coraline dreaded dinner time, and as nice as her dad was, he needed to admit to himself that cooking was not one of his skills, at all. Mushy is the best word to describe whatever concoction he tried to create every day. Disgusting. She wasn't a particularly picky kid, in all honesty, she loved food. Only that her dad made it hate it.

-Why don't you ever cook Mom?

-Coraline we've been through this before, your dad cooks, I clean, and you stay out of the way.

Yeah right, her mom said she was going to go food shopping, only for her dad to continue cooking garbage. She wasn't going to touch that pile of slime and then she went to sleep without eating. It didn't bother her anymore as she got used to it.

-Goodnight, little me.

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