Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jan 25, 2008 21:28:46 GMT -5
Title: The Gift
Cast: Dewey Denouement; Kit Jr.
Ships: None
Author’s Disclaimer: I do not own any of the A Series of Unfortunate Events characters or any of the places mentioned herein. They belong to Lemony Snicket a.k.a. Daniel Handler. I do, however, own rights to my original character, Kit Jr. Please do not use her in any artwork or stories without my permission first. Thank you.
Rating: G
Genre: General/Fantasy
Story-Type: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Summery: While sitting in her backyard, Kit Jr., the daughter of Carmelita Spats and Vice Principal Nero, meets an unlikely acquaintance.
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It was a beautiful spring day, and five-year-old Kit Jr. was sitting in the sandbox outside her house. Her fiery red hair was tied into two pigtails with bright blue ribbons, and she was wearing a white dress decorated with pictures of snails. She hated it, but it was something her father, Nero, had bought for her and so she had to wear it. She was his only daughter, after all, not to mention his little prodigy, and so she didn’t want to do anything that would disappoint him.
She had been playing a game of hide-and-go-seek with her twin brother, Monty, whose only joy in life seemed to be torturing her every chance he got. He would often sneak up behind her while her back was turned and let out a loud “Boo!” or steal her concertina when she wasn’t looking and then hide it.
Kit had actually decided to get back at her brother for the way he treated her by abandoning their game of hide-and-go-seek, and come outside to play by herself instead. She didn’t need to worry about being scolded by her mother, Carmelita, because the sandbox was well within earshot of the front door, and so when she called her children for lunch, Kit would be sure to hear her.
Scooping up a little plastic shovel, Kit began to dig around in the sand and pretend she was searching for buried treasure. While she dug, she began to talk to herself, another of her idiosyncrasies that would often invite stares and remarks from the other children in her kindergarten class.
“You’re crazy, Kit,” Monty would tell her. “People already make fun of you for playing the concertina. Do you know how embarrassing it is every time I overhear somebody saying mean and nasty things about you and have to step in and defend you?”
“I’m not crazy!” Kit would reply defiantly. “I’m an unappreciated genius, just like Daddy says!”
Of course, deep down Kit knew that the reason she was teased so much was because of her unusual personality, but it wasn’t something she could actually help. It didn’t matter how much praise her parents gave her, because it wouldn’t change the fact that she was… well… odd.
“I’ll bet we’ll find a lot of buried treasure here,” Kit said to no one in particular. “This place is supposed to be full of nothing but diamonds and rubies and sapphires. If we just keep searching, I’ll bet we’ll—” She paused suddenly, as she caught sight of a man approaching her from just beyond the pine trees. At first, she thought it might perhaps be either her Uncle Duncan or her Uncle Quigley, but as the man came nearer, Kit realized it was neither of them. Unlike her two uncles, this man was very tall and lanky, with sandy brown hair instead of black, and dressed in a red uniform such as the manager of a hotel might wear.
The man smiled warmly down at the little girl sitting in the sandbox, and his face was so kind and pleasant that she couldn’t help but smile back up at him.
“Hello,” the man said in a voice that matched the expression on his face. “Is this your house?”
“Yes,” Kit replied. “I live here with my parents and my brother.”
The man nodded and knelt down beside her, using his hand to scoop up some sand. “Good sand today, I see.”
Kit giggled.
“When I was your age, I would always hate when it rained,” the man went on. “Because the sand in the sandbox my two brothers and I shared would always get wet, and made it impossible to dig for buried treasure.”
Kit’s eyes widened at the mention of this. “Really?” she asked in amazement. “That’s just what I was doing!”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Kit paused. “What’s your name?”
The man smiled again, and pointed to a nameplate on the left pocket of his jacket. Kit peered a bit closer to read it out loud.
“Dewey Dee—Dee-no-yoo…” She frowned, frustrated with herself for not being able to read the rest of it.
“Denouement,” the man said. “Dewey Denouement. And you are?”
Forgetting her frustration, Kit grinned. “I’m Kit,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Dewey looked at her in amazement for a moment before answering her. “Kit?” he repeated.
She nodded. “That’s right.”
Dewey scratched his head, and Kit watched him curiously. He sure seemed like a nice man, although he was looking at her a little strangely now.
“Is something the matter?” asked Kit, reaching over to touch Dewey’s face. As her warm hand pressed against his cheek, she was surprised by how cold it felt. However, she didn’t say anything, remembering what her mother always told her and her brother about minding their manners.
Dewey shook his head, and Kit was relieved to see that the smile had returned to his face. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?” he asked.
“Okay. Just wait here a minute while I go tell my mother. She’ll be angry if she calls me in for lunch and I don’t answer.”
“Then you had better let her know. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”
“I promise I’ll come right back,” Kit said, and then scampered off towards the house.
She pushed open the front door and called inside to her mother, “Mommy, is it okay if I go for a walk? I promise I won’t be long and that I’ll stay in the yard.”
“It’s fine with me,” Carmelita replied from inside the kitchen. “Just be sure to stay close to the house. Lunch will be ready soon.”
“All right,” Kit replied, and slipped out the door once more.
When she returned to the sandbox, she was pleased to see that Dewey had waited for her. She had half-expected for him to run off, as she was used to that kind of treatment from the kids at school.
“You waited for me,” Kit pointed out.
“Well, of course I did,” Dewey replied. “It would be very rude of me to just leave without saying anything. What did your mother say?”
“She said I could go, but for me to stay close to the house. I have to go in for lunch soon.”
“Then I promise we won’t take long.” Dewey then held out his hand for the little girl to take, and as she wrapped her short fingers around his long ones, she once again noticed just how icy his skin felt.
“Your hand is so cold, Dewey” Kit said, unable to keep this thought to herself any longer. “Are you sick?”
Dewey shook his head. “No, Kit,” he said. “I’m not sick. I’m dead.”
“Dead? But you’re walking and talking and I can’t see through you. How can you be dead?”
“Because I was killed.”
“How?”
“In a terrible accident,” Dewey replied.
“What kind of accident?” Kit asked.
“It’s not important.”
“How can you say that? If you died, then it is important!” As she said this, Kit’s little face contorted into an expression that was so serious it was difficult to believe she was only a child.
“Not anymore.”
Kit frowned, but said nothing more on the matter at hand. Instead, she looked straight ahead and watched two squirrels fight over an acorn. It cheered her up slightly, and she smiled. For a moment, she forgot about being sad and squeezed Dewey’s hand. She wasn’t frightened of him in the least, as some people meeting a ghost for the first time would probably be, and instead welcomed his company. It was nice to have someone who didn’t tease her for being odd, or laugh at her because she would rather play a musical instrument instead of video games. She had her father to thank for that.
“Is it lonely being dead?” Kit asked after a few minutes.
“Sometimes,” Dewey admitted.
“Am I the only one who can see you?”
“That depends. Some people have the Gift, while others do not.”
“Do I?”
Dewey’s answer to this was a warm smile, and Kit squeezed his hand again, forgetting how cold it was.
“What did you do before you became a ghost?” she said.
“I was the manager of a hotel,” Dewey replied.
“Is that where you died?”
Dewey nodded.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask anymore questions. Mommy is always telling me to think before I speak, but I always forget.”
“Please don’t worry about it,” Dewey said gently, “or be sorry. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
“That’s just what my daddy says,” Kit replied.
“Does he, now?”
“Yes. Sometimes I think if I were more like everybody else, then I wouldn’t get teased so much. That’s what my brother tells me, anyway.”
“Why does everybody tease you?” asked Dewey.
“Because I talk to myself… and I play the concertina instead of video games. Monty— that’s my brother —is jealous of all his friends because their parents let them have video games. But Daddy refuses to buy him any. I don’t care, though. I’d much rather play my concertina.”
“I understand what you mean,” Dewey mused. “When I was your age, the other kids used to make fun of me because I liked to spend my time reciting the works of American humorist poets of the nineteenth century. They would often laugh at me and call me names like ‘Bookworm’.”
Dewey’s account managed to bring yet another smile to Kit’s face, and she wrapped her tiny hands around his long, skinny arm. “The kids call me names, too,” she said softly. “Things like ‘Dummy’ and ‘Weirdo’. Daddy says it’s because they’re jealous that I’m gifted, and Monty says it’s because I sit and talk to myself all the time. Sometimes I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong, you know?”
“You shouldn’t listen to people who judge you based on your personality,” Dewey told her. “You should listen to those who know you best. And your brother means well. Someday, he too will see what a truly gifted individual you are.”
“I hope so,” Kit replied.
“Kit, Monty, lunch is ready!”
Kit let go of Dewey’s arm, and jerked her head over her shoulder in the direction of the house. “That’s my mother calling me,” she said.
Dewey nodded. “Thank you for spending this time with me, Kit,” he said. “It gets so lonely in the afterlife.”
Kit smiled, and threw her arms around him. “You’re welcome.”
“Kit!”
“I’d better go,” she said, “before I get into trouble.”
After smiling once more at Dewey, Kit scampered off in the direction of her house. She was halfway there when she paused in her tracks, and turned around. When she did, she saw that the spot where Dewey had been standing no more than ten seconds before was now empty.
He had vanished
The End