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Post by Michi on Aug 11, 2006 12:49:02 GMT -8
A/N: I'll delete this thread if I ever get a website up with this stuff on it, but I'll be sure it give fair warning and a link. X3
Prologue
Julianna Knox was a perfectly normal person, if very, very old.
Though she was old, she had lived a full life, and had written all of the wisdom learned throughout her ninety-seven years down in several very long, very grammatically correct manuscripts. She was a content person, but was getting mildly bored with life. In her spare time, she wrote books. She had written many of them in her long lifetime, but very few of them had ever been published
When she wasn’t performing the act of writing itself, she would sit on the swinging bench on her back patio and listen to the sounds the neighborhood made, and dream up more stories, or characters.
Today she made herself a large glass of lemonade, donned her sun hat, and walked slowly out to her porch. She could feel a character tickling the back of her imagination, waiting to be thought up.
She seated herself on the flowery cushion of her swinging bench, and pushed off slightly with her feet to get it moving. It rocked back and forth slightly, and she allowed her mind to drift off into the vast realm of her imagination, and the character that had been calling to her climbed out into the sunlight.
He was enormously fat was the first characteristic that came to her. He was morbidly obese, so fat that if he actually existed, he would die immediately of a heart attack, or something equally horrid. He was an inventor of great things. Great, complicated machines that did marvelous things. He had a passion for cookies.
The list of his virtues, vices, quirks, and personality traits went on and on. Julianna spent all day dreaming up her character, finally naming him Raoul before she went to bed.
That night, Julianna Knox died peacefully in her sleep.
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Post by Michi on Aug 11, 2006 12:53:45 GMT -8
Chapter One – Disturbing Apparitions
Fenna Jones sat quietly in her chair, staring at nothing. Staring at nothing is, in fact, rather easier than it might sound. You just pick a place on the wall in front of you and lock your eyeballs on it while your mind is free to wander. Fenna’s mind was currently running around in very small, very frustrating circles; it made her wonder if she was going mad.
She’d actually been wondering that for some time now. If she was mad, that is. So many things were happening to her all at once, things that didn’t normally happen to people, that she had considered asking her parents if she was sane. But then it would be off to the shrink again and no one really wanted that.
Besides, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. As long as she continued to think she was insane, she was going to be all right. The second she believed she was sane was when she needed to start worrying.
She checked the clock: It was nine forty two at night. She was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, but then, what else was new.
Fenna was a rather short girl. Not short enough for it to be constantly remarked upon, but shorter than other girls her age. She had hair that could only be described as ‘dirty blonde’ that was loosely curly and hung to halfway down her back when she let it flow free, as she did now. Despite the fact that her hair was light, her eyes were very dark brown, and liquid-looking. They would have been warm if she could be bothered to let any emotion leak into them.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall to shut out the brightness of the light and the odd shapes and creatures that seemed to pop out at her from every turn lately. She kept seeing strange things, things no one else saw or, probably , wanted to see. At first she decided that he mind was playing games on her – that the alternately grotesque and beautiful creatures were merely tricks of the light. She wasn’t seeing things – she just needed glasses. When she saw a four-armed, hairy gorilla-like creature prancing around on the sidewalk outside her house in the middle of the day, she had finally accepted it; whether they were real or not, Fenna could see them.
And they could see her, as well.
Even with her eyes closed she knew they were there. Sitting in the shadows, watching her. They wouldn’t harm her, she knew. Maybe because they couldn’t, maybe because they were waiting for another time and another place. Fenna wanted to run from them, but they were everywhere. They had been for three weeks now.
She opened her eyes and looked around. Oddly enough, they were hidden. It struck her as strange because normally (if it could even be called that,) they almost flaunted their presence, as though trying to make it obvious to her that they knew she could see them. Tonight she couldn’t see a single one. Maybe they were being nice and giving her a break. She almost laughed aloud at the thought.
~
For some reason the sidewalk was unusually vacant today. On every other day there would be people strolling up and down for no other reason than to be outside in the lovely autumn weather. Today they were all gone, and Tamsin Reiss walked the streets alone.
She wasn’t a very tall girl, but not particularly short either. Not very fat, and not very thin. She had always floated somewhere in between extremes and never worried either way. She tossed her long black hair without thinking as she walked along. It was naturally a lightish brown color, but about a year ago she had dyed it, and never let it grow out. She was dressed in a somewhat gothic style, in mostly black. Black t-shirt, black sweater, black sweat pants, black shoes. Even her messenger bag was black. At times people regarded her warily, as though they believed her to be a bad person because of what she wore. There was no one around to marvel at the lack of color, however, so she walked along without her usual sullenness.
Perhaps it had something to do with daylight savings, she mused. People were usually afraid of the dark, and liked to be in before sunset. Tamsin used to be one of them. Then her mother had killed herself, and Tamsin had embraced the dark as the velvety soft protector that it was. Light was too harsh a thing for Tamsin now, too revealing.
True, she had to go to school, which was held during the day, but that was a necessary evil which forced her into the light and to run around a stupid track in the sun. Physical education was Tamsin’s greatest enemy, mostly because of the unforgiving track teachers who made it very obvious that they didn’t care about any of their students, or their uncanny aversions to the sun.
As Tamsin walked down the street she was suddenly glad she was alone. Far too many people stared at her like she was some sort of freak that just a few moments with no one looking at her was a luxury.
She was enjoying the silence, with no noises around but the wind through the trees, cars in the distance, and the muffled slap of her feet hitting the sidewalk. Every once and awhile, another random noise would interrupt the pattern, but for the most part, the noises remained more or less constant. There had just been a fairly loud birdcall when they stopped. It took Tamsin a few moments to notice that the wind, which was blowing steadily now, made no noise against the trees. The sound of cars was gone. Only the rhythm of her footsteps remained.
She stopped, puzzled and slightly confused by the sudden silence. For once, the night seemed slightly eerie to her, as though with all telltale noises gone, anything might happen. After a while, she forced her feet to keep moving, and she continued to walk, only slightly faster now.
Shadows flickered around her suddenly, and she stopped again, with a startled squeak, and froze completely. There was something moving in the shadows, and she was very certain that she didn’t want to know what it was. There was the sound of footsteps, only it was very strange sounding. Tamsin took a deep breath and called out to whatever was in the shadows watching her.
“Is someone there?” She called as loud as she dared. There was no answer. Tamsin backed up several feet and almost fell off the curb. “Hello?” She said hesitantly in a slightly smaller voice. Whatever it was continued to come towards her, but she suddenly found herself unable to move. It walked into the light and Tamsin nearly screamed.
It was a giant rabbit.
Not a rabbit of the cute and fuzzy variety, however. It was at least seven feet tall and a strange lavender shade. It was walking on its hind legs like people who dressed up as rabbit mascots did, only Tamsin was positive that this was no mascot. It inched closer, nose twitching as it sniffed.
Her self-control now gone completely, she shrieked and tore off down the sidewalk, running as fast as she could away from the rabbit and to somewhere where she could sit and have a nervous breakdown in peace. She swore under her breath as she realized that her house was still several blocks away, but then relaxed as she saw the sign posted in front of one of the residential areas of the city. Not slowing at all, she sprinted down the street and up to a large blue house, where she didn’t so much knock as throw herself against the door and begin pounding it with her fists.
“Dom, it’s Tamsin! Let me in, I’m freaking going crazy!” She shouted. She was only left standing there for a few minutes more before the door swung open and she found herself sprawled on a fluffy beige carpet. She scrambled to her feet and slammed the door shut before sinking back to the floor and looking up at the boy standing in front of her.
It wasn’t exactly fair to call him a boy; he was actually more of a young man. He’d been sixteen for around three months now and wasn’t shy about telling people. He was a bit taller than average boys his age, and had the blondest hair that Tamsin had ever seen. Well, the blondest naturally, anyway. His cold blue eyes studied her intently for a while before he spoke.
“For future reference, telling people that you’re going crazy isn’t a good way to get invited in. Speaking of which, Tamsin, dear, it’s so nice to see you, please, come in and make yourself at home. Oh, wait, I see you already have.” He stared down at her accusingly for a moment before grinning and extending a hand to help her to her feet. Dominick Wilson, Tamsin’s first cousin, had an interesting sense of humor. She accepted it, and followed him into the living room, where they both plopped down on couches. “So what’s up?” He asked once they had got comfortable. Tamsin shook her head, feeling suddenly foolish.
“I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m insane.” She said. Dom raised an eyebrow at her and she glared at him.
“Tamsin, I’ve known you were off your rocker for years. Spit it out.”
“All right.” She said, “Just promise that you won’t call the big burly men in the white suits to come and take me away.” He nodded.
“I promise. For now.” Tamsin rolled her eyes.
“Ok, so I was walking home, and suddenly all of the noises and everything just stopped. It was so strange. And after everything stopped, I heard this weird noise in the shadows, like someone was walking around. Well I backed up, and they walked forward, and it was this huge sort of purplish rabbit. I know what you’re going to say and it isn’t a mascot; believe me, I can tell the difference, and – where are you going?” Dom had got off the couch and was slowly backing up towards the kitchen, where the phone was.
“I’m going to call those burly men to take you to a nice soft room where you can’t hurt yourself or anyone else.” He said, a smirk on his face. Tamsin couldn’t help noticing, however, that he was pale under his summer tan.
“Siddown.” She instructed him. To her amazement, he walked over to the couch and sat. “You believe me, don’t you? Or else you really think I’m crazy. You’re as white as a sheet.” He nodded slightly. “Well? Which is it?”
“Both.” He said simply, and was quiet for several moments. When she raised her eyebrows at him, he elaborated. “I definitely believe you, and I really hope you’re not crazy, although you might be. But if you’re insane, we’re both insane.” Tamsin’s eyes widened.
“You’ve seen it too?” she asked him. He shook his head, and her heart sank.
“No, I haven’t seen any giant purple rabbits lately. Or ever, for that matter. But I have seen something like it.” Tamsin raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“What could possibly be like a seven foot purple rabbit?” She asked him, hoping the whole time that he actually had seen something odd and wasn’t just stringing her along for the fun of it. Dom shrugged.
“I don’t really know what it was. It wasn’t human, though – I know that much.” He shrugged again. “Maybe we both are just crazy. Who knows?”
“Yeah…” Tamsin echoed, “Who knows?”
~
At around the same time Tamsin saw the giant purple rabbit, Gemma Collins was thinking about anything but rabbits, and seeing things that weren’t really there. She was poking her wavy red hair, which never seemed to lie just right, and frowning at the mirror. The second she needed to look her best, the mirror decided to make blatantly obvious another half dozen things that were very wrong with her. Before just this second she had believed herself to be, if not pretty, at least decent looking. The mirror told her that her bright red hair stuck out in strange places, Her gray eyes were too wide and innocent-looking, her cheeks were too fat, her nose didn’t fit her face, the list went on and on. Finally she made herself move away from the mirror and sit on the sofa in the front room. She checked the clock; it was six ten.
She had no idea why she was scrutinizing herself so much tonight – there was really nothing special happening. She would be meeting with another therapist – or at least, someone she thought was a therapist – and talking, but that was it. Perhaps she was more out of it than anyone believed, but she decided that primping endlessly was just a part of life. Seven fifteen.
This had all started around three weeks ago, when Gemma had started to see things. Not dead people or anything completely disgusting like children in horror movies often did, but beautiful things. A lot were horses, winged and oddly colored horses, things a little girl might dream up in her spare time. Others were pixies, fairies, fantastical things that were breathtaking to behold. She had been rather upset at first when her parents had reassured her that therapy would make them go away, but then decided that it was best they leave before she started communicating with them – that would be a sure sign of madness.
The first therapist she consulted had listened for about five minutes and immediately handed her a business card, “I can’t help you,” She had told Gemma, “But Ms. Duncan might be able to.” Ms. Janelle Duncan, to be precise. The woman wasn’t even a proper therapist, yet Gemma’s parents had leapt on the offer of any help for their daughter and invited Ms. Duncan to their house to speak with Gemma. They had informed their daughter pf this about three hours ago, to make sure Gemma wouldn’t make any sudden plans that would render her unable to speak with a therapist or anyone else, for that matter.
Gemma sighed; her parents knew her too well. They were both out at the moment; working late again, at their respective offices. They had an unfortunate habit of working late and leaving Gemma to fend for herself. Unfortunate in the minds of child researchers everywhere – Gemma herself actually enjoyed the solitude.
The doorbell rang, and Gemma leapt up out of her seat to answer it. She opened the door and smiled welcomingly, all the while wondering what to expect.
What she saw wasn’t at all what she expected.
The woman standing on the other side was beautiful, yet somehow eerily so. She was tall, taller than Gemma, who was taller than most girls her age. Her very presence was a commanding one, and almost made Gemma shrink back from her a little. Lucky for her, though, Gemma was nothing if not brimming with confidence, and smiled warmly at the woman, who smiled back.
“Hello. Are you Mrs. Duncan?” She asked cordially. The woman – Ms. Duncan – nodded.
“I am. Call me Janelle though, Ms. Duncan makes me feel so very stiff and formal. I assume that you’re Gemma Collins?” She had a strange, almost flowery way of talking. Not exactly an accent, just a formal lilt to the way she spoke that Gemma was sure would set her apart from all of the other people in America who spoke with a constant informal tone. To her surprise, Gemma could feel her admiration for this woman building already.
“Yes.” Gemma said, in a somewhat smaller voice, “Please, come in. Can I get you some coffee, or something?” Janelle shook her head.
“No, thank you, I don’t expect I’ll be very long. Is there an office or someplace we could talk privately?” Gemma nodded, and waved an arm at the entire house in general.
“My parents are gone, so we can talk anyway. There is an office that we could use, though, if you’d like.” She indicated the door to her left. It was her parents work office, and normally Gemma was supposed to stay out of it, but she was certain her parents wouldn’t mind – she was, after all, only being a good hostess. Janelle nodded.
“Excellent.” Without another word, she swept into the office, in what seemed to be a single movement, leaving a slightly startled Gemma to follow behind a bit more slowly.
When she entered the office, Gemma found Janelle seated at the large oak desk that stood, alone and foreboding, in the middle of the room, away from all of the file cabinets and potted plants. Janelle had taken the matching oak chair, and was sitting demurely, her hands folded on the table in front of her. Gemma, now with the skittish, guilty feeling of someone who might or might not be lectured, sunk into the computer chair across from the older woman, and waited for her to speak. Janelle cleared her throat, and leaned forward slightly.
“So,” She began, “I heard from the therapist you saw – who happens to be a good friend of mine – that you’ve been seeing things? What kind of things?” Gemma opened her mouth to explain, and Janelle held her hand up suddenly, “Tell me exactly what you saw. No exaggerating, or scoffing, or talking about it like you probably just imagined it. Tell me what you saw, and how you felt when you saw it.” Gemma closed her mouth again, and thought for a minute.
“What do I see?” she mused, “Beautiful things, mostly. Delicate, and dainty and beautiful. I can’t really describe them much better than that, except to say that they made me feel very happy for some reason, and almost . . . I don’t know, like I was missing something from my life before I could see them. I can’t quite explain the feeling.”
Janelle nodded, and appeared to be thinking intently. Her lips were curled upwards in a small smile that was barely visible in the dim light.
“Interesting.” She said slowly, “But what exactly are these things that you see? People? Animals? That sort of thing?” She appeared to be studying Gemma’s face, searching for a reaction.
“Not people or animals, not like the ones normal people see. I see things from fairy tales, like winged horses and fairies. That sort of thing. They’re mostly magical things that I can identify, but there are some that just confuse me. They’re still wonderful, though.” She realized that she had a goofy grin on her face and quickly erased it. Janelle apparently didn’t notice and continued to nod thoughtfully. Suddenly she stood up and extended her hand to Gemma.
“Congratulations,” She said, “ You have the Sight.” Gemma, not knowing what else to do, stood up and shook Janelle’s hand, all the while wondering how best to phrase her question without sounding like a total fool.
“Um, does that mean that I’m not insane?” She asked, “Or are you just insane too? Maybe everyone in the world is just a little bit crazy and they’re only now just deciding to tell me because I’ve become one of them and my insanity is starting to manifest itself through these really weird things I keep seeing, and-.” Janelle held up her hand again.
“Gemma, dear, you’re rambling. Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Gemma said, and felt herself blush – how could she ramble on like that in the presence or such an extremely poised woman? “But really, does that mean I’m not stark raving mad?” Janelle smiled slightly.
“No, you’re not mad, and I’m not mad. We’re just unusually gifted. These apparitions that you’ve been seeing are real, Gemma, and eventually you’ll be able to speak to them. Not for some time yet, so I suggest that you don’t even attempt it, but you will be able to eventually.” Gemma wasn’t smiling anymore, just staring with a mix of shock and wonder on her face, “This is what we refer to as the Sight.”
“Who is ‘we’? And what exactly is the Sight? And what am I seeing?” Janelle sat again, and so did Gemma, who was not staring intently at the older woman, who laughed softly. Janelle’s laughter was surprisingly light and carefree.
“One question at a time! You don’t need to throw them at me all at once; we’ve got the time to discuss it at length, and if you think up any more questions, you can always call me and ask them. ‘We’ is referring to all of the others with this unique ability. The Sight itself is rather more difficult to explain. To make a very, very long story short, the things you are now seeing were imagined by someone at some point in time. Someone who is alive today. The imaginary friends you never knew were real, if you want to think of it that way. I don’t, because not all of them are friends. Not everything people imagine is nice; some can be rather nasty, and others frankly dangerous. You are one of the lucky few who attracts the wonderful, fantastical kind. What sort of creatures are attracted depends on the people themselves. If you attract flying horses and fairies, I think I should like to talk to you a bit more. However, you can’t judge a person by what they see. Perfectly nice people can sometimes be plagued by the most horrible things. Are you understanding all of this?” Gemma realized that she had been listening in a sort of a trance; her gaze was fixed somewhere above Janelle’s left shoulder.
“Yes, I’m listening,” she assured Janelle, “Please continue.” Janelle nodded.
“Well, these creatures will be there forever, unless you do something to banish them or you accidentally rid yourself of the Sight. Once you learn to talk with them, they can be extremely useful.”
“Extremely useful in doing what?” Gemma asked. She felt that there was more to this story than Janelle was telling her, and she wanted to know it all. Janelle smiled again, this time secretively.
“I’m terribly sorry, but you’re not ready to know that just yet. You will soon, but for now you’ll just have to trust me when I say that if I told you all of this, you wouldn’t be able to cope. And that, my dear Gemma, wouldn’t be a good thing.” She stood again, and Gemma didn’t ask any more questions. In a little less than half an hour, this woman had earned her total and complete trust – something that Gemma’s parents hadn’t been able to accomplish in sixteen years. “I should be going now; I’ve other matters to attend to tonight. Thank you for explaining this to me and, once again, congratulations. I know this may seem like more trouble than its worth now, but once you’ve learned everything you need to, you will see it as that gift it truly is.”
“Alright,” Gemma said, “Thank you for explaining everything, but I have one more question – what do I tell my parents?” This had been bothering her ever since Janelle had revealed that the two of them possessed a special talent. It didn’t sound like something that Gemma’s parents would be overly thrilled to hear about. Janelle waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t worry yourself about it, just tell them that you’re not crazy and request that they call me as soon as reasonably possible. I’ll explain to them that you’re not insane and your visions were caused by something strange in something you ate. Like food poisoning, only you hallucinate instead of vomit. Are either of them doctors?”
“No.”
“Good.”
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