Post by Cafe SalMONAlla on Feb 22, 2010 5:45:11 GMT -5
I submitted this fan fic for D. H.'s birthday, and it it only just dawned on me that I should also realease it in FF. Silly me. Here it is, anyway:
My tale begins years ago, in the days when I was innocent and undistraught, and specifically begins on my very last day of living in such a state. In the late evening, as I wandered though the oddly deserted streets of my town, I took a turn down a small alley that I had never set foot in before. I was bored and looking for new places to see – youth and innocent curiosity. This alley somehow appealed to me, and disposing of the wrapper of my cookies-and-cream chocolate bar in the nearby trash receptacle, I took my first steps toward despair.
At the end of the narrow alley I found a structure that would change my life forever: an old abandoned library. Normally, I would not have entered, but the entrance door had come off its hinges, and therefore looked incredibly inviting; and, as I said, I was bored. I stepped through the doorway and peered around me. I was surprised to see that most of the shelves were well stocked with books, almost as if the building had been abandoned in an emergency of some sort.
As there was, of course, no librarian to question my recent behavior toward my mother, I simply wandered between the high shelves, hoping to receive a message without assistance. I approached the very back of the building; I inhaled the musty smell, and bent down to read the spines of the books on the lowest shelves. I noticed a small, thin-spined, hardback book. The spine was dark blue, and felt slightly soft to the touch. It was clear there had once been white embossed writing on it, but the letters had faded so that they were almost unreadable. I squinted at them, pulled the book off its shelf, and looked at the cover. Chills ran up and down my spine as I read it: “A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the First, by Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning”. I instantly sensed trouble.
With all due respect.
Lemony Snicket: A Victim's Account
By Lemona
By Lemona
Installment the first:
This article is a work of fictional fact, regarding volumes of perfectly factual fiction.
Any resemblance to codes, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Please be aware that the following tale causes a heightened state of distress, and can induce weeping.
Any resemblance to codes, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Please be aware that the following tale causes a heightened state of distress, and can induce weeping.
My tale begins years ago, in the days when I was innocent and undistraught, and specifically begins on my very last day of living in such a state. In the late evening, as I wandered though the oddly deserted streets of my town, I took a turn down a small alley that I had never set foot in before. I was bored and looking for new places to see – youth and innocent curiosity. This alley somehow appealed to me, and disposing of the wrapper of my cookies-and-cream chocolate bar in the nearby trash receptacle, I took my first steps toward despair.
At the end of the narrow alley I found a structure that would change my life forever: an old abandoned library. Normally, I would not have entered, but the entrance door had come off its hinges, and therefore looked incredibly inviting; and, as I said, I was bored. I stepped through the doorway and peered around me. I was surprised to see that most of the shelves were well stocked with books, almost as if the building had been abandoned in an emergency of some sort.
As there was, of course, no librarian to question my recent behavior toward my mother, I simply wandered between the high shelves, hoping to receive a message without assistance. I approached the very back of the building; I inhaled the musty smell, and bent down to read the spines of the books on the lowest shelves. I noticed a small, thin-spined, hardback book. The spine was dark blue, and felt slightly soft to the touch. It was clear there had once been white embossed writing on it, but the letters had faded so that they were almost unreadable. I squinted at them, pulled the book off its shelf, and looked at the cover. Chills ran up and down my spine as I read it: “A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the First, by Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning”. I instantly sensed trouble.
With all due respect.