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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 3, 2008 12:06:35 GMT -5
The Miraculous Misfortune An A Series of Unfortunate Events RPG by <3CaRmY<3 and Emma Squalor After her mother is taken seriously ill, Esmé Salinger is sent to live with Count Olaf, her acting teacher and close family friend. *** Esmé hadn’t said a word ever since Count Olaf had ushered her into the front seat of his long, black car. Esmé hated her father for making this arrangement. She hated her mother for being sick. But most of all she hated the idea that she might be leaving her home in Paltryville forever. “It doesn’t have to be all bad, you know,” Olaf said as he leaned one arm out the window in order to tap some of the ash off the cigarette he had been smoking for the last few minutes. “Think of it as a new beginning. A fresh start of your life as an aspiring actress.” Esmé said nothing, and instead chose to keep her face turned towards the window. The air was filled with a combination of cigarette smoke and horseradish, which overpowered her lungs and made her feel lightheaded. She thought of asking Olaf to please put out his cigarette, but that would require her to speak to him and she wanted him to know how much she disapproved of this arrangement. “I’m having some acquaintances of mine over for dinner this Friday,” continued Olaf, who was evidently oblivious to his young passenger’s silence. “Actually, they’re members of my adult acting class. Perhaps you’d be interested in performing something for them. That is if you’re feeling up to it.” As they arrived at the outskirts of Paltryville and prepared to continue on to the next town, Esmé leaned over in her seat and pulled up her sock. She knew she should be grateful to Olaf for agreeing to her parents’ request to let her live with him, but she wasn’t. Instead she was resentful with everyone for the circumstances that were currently plaguing her life. She hadn’t even been allowed to take along her cat, which had been given away to neighbors. “This isn’t fair,” Esmé said. These were the first words she had spoken since that morning when she had told her father that she hated him. “My dear,” Olaf said, “life isn’t all fairytales and happy endings. It’s full of unfairness and misfortune, but I suppose you must know that by now.”
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Post by LuLu on Jul 3, 2008 13:48:09 GMT -5
“ I guess I do,” the teen replied, trying to say as little as possible. Even though she did not approve of this arrangement, maybe Olaf was right. Perhaps this was a new beginning.
***
About an hour later, they arrived at Olaf’s house, and Esme’ couldn’t believe what she saw. The side of her new home was covered in soot and grime. The grass nearly stood to her skinny knees. And worst of all, right in the middle of the front door, there was an eye for the peephole. Yes, this was a new beginning. But so far, it wasn’t getting any better.
She was shook out of her thoughts when Olaf called out to her. ‘’ Come on, Esme’ and I’ll show you your new bedroom. You’ll love it.” She rolled her eyes at th man. Esme’ wanted so bad to tell him “ Oh, I’m sure I will!” But instead, she kept her mouth shut, something she had a hard time doing.
Olaf opened the front door for her, and she walked inside and laid her eyes upon her new home for the first time. It wasn’t any better than the outside. There was an ashtray that was full of smoked cigarettes, empty wine bottles scattered her and there, ( Esme’ noticed that one of the bottles were on the floor, scattered into millions of tiny pieces. She figured that Olaf had gotten angry over something quite ridiculous and thrown the bottle across the room, breaking it.) And, worst of all, the hideous wallpaper on the wall had millions of tiny eyes on them. It was filthy. And it smelled like dirty, old socks.
“ Follow me upstairs to your new room,” Olaf ordered her. So, Esme’ followed. Throughout the house, she noticed eyes everywhere, from the curtains on the windows, to the chair in the hallway that seemed to have no purpose at all. She wondered if she would always feel as if she were being watched. Probably so.
Olaf, walking in front of her, stopped at the end of a dark, smelly walkway and turned to her. “ This is your room. It’s getting late, so you better get some sleep.” Esme’ realized what a ridiculous thing he had just said when she checked her watch and it read “6:02 PM. “ See you in the morning, Esme’,” Olaf went on. So, Esme’ walked into her room without a word. When she closed the door, she realized that there was a bed with a filthy sheet and nothing else in the corner, along with a stack of rocks to keep her company, and one window with curtains that had eyes. “ Could this get any worse,?” the young girl wondered aloud. She laid down on the lumpy mattress and started to cry. Why had her parents sent her away with this man? Why did her mother have to get sick? But the most important question of all was, “ Why did this happen to her, of all people in the world?” Esme’ Salinger kept this question in mind all night long, as she cried herself to sleep.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 3, 2008 16:41:00 GMT -5
She awoke the next morning to the sound of her bedroom door creaking open, followed by the sound of Olaf’s voice: “You’re breakfast is waiting for you downstairs. If you don’t come down in five minutes, it’ll get cold and I’ll be forced to throw it out.”
Not wanting to spend the rest of the morning with an empty stomach, Esmé tugged the sheet off her head and sat up. Throwing her skinny legs over the side of the bed, she slid her bare feet into the fuzzy pink slippers that her parents had given her for her birthday. Then she got up and left the room, shielding one side of her face with her hand to avoid looking at the creepy wallpaper.
When Esmé reached the bottom of the staircase, she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. There she found Olaf standing at the stove in a tattered apron and a chef’s hat. The sight of his attire made Esmé giggle, and as he turned around she saw that he was holding a bowl with steam rising from it.
“Good morning, Esmé,” Olaf said. “I hope you slept well. Here, I made you some oatmeal.”
Esmé slid into a rickety chair at the small table as Olaf set the bowl of oatmeal down in front of her. As she peered inside she saw that he had added what looked like fresh raspberries.
She examined him closely. “Why raspberries?” she asked.
Olaf sat down in a seat across from her. “Because,” he said, “that is how my mother always prepared my oatmeal for me. I do hope it’s to your liking.”
Esmé picked up her spoon and dipped it into the oatmeal. She took a bite and smiled. “It’s delicious!”
“When you’re finished eating,” he said, “perhaps you’d like to rehearse a line or two from The World is Quiet Here. I know you’re distressed over being separated from your parents, but perhaps if you focus on something else it might help to ease your loneliness.”
“I was wondering about something,” Esmé said.
Olaf removed his chef’s hat and set it down on the table next to him. “Oh? And what might that be?”
“Do the people in your acting troupe have any children my age?”
Olaf shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “The youngest is a man around eighteen going by the name of Fernald Widdershins, but I doubt you’d have very much in common.”
“Oh,” Esmé said disappointedly, and began stirring her spoon around in her oatmeal.
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Post by notsoquiet on Jul 4, 2008 6:29:31 GMT -5
Awesome job! Can't wait to read more.
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Post by LuLu on Jul 5, 2008 21:36:36 GMT -5
(Thanks, Kit! I haven’t really done much writing here lately, and I know I’m definetly not the writer Emma is, but I’m doing my best, and it helps to know that people like what I’m writing with Emma. “ Don’t worry though,” Olaf went on. “I’m sure you’ll still like the people I work with.” With that, he gave her an odd but kind smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all! The rest of the meal was finished in silence, however. Once they were done, Olaf broke the silence. “ Well, if you want, you can go and do whatever you desire, while I clean the kitchen up.” “Don’t be ridiculous!” Esme’ cried. “ I’ll help you.” She eagerly went over and began grabbing their plates up. “ Well, you don’t have to, but I can’t argue.” He, to, began cleaning the kitchen.” So, who all is in your acting troupe?” Esme asked. She was beginning to look forward to meeting Olaf’s theatre troupe, not to mention curious. “ Oh, there’s a bunch of people. You might as well wait until tomorrow, there’s about five people, and I’m sure they’ll like you and I know you’ll like them.” Esme’ was a little disappointed simply because he acted as if he had no interest in her. Oh well. Olaf brought her out of her thoughts by mentioning what she had wanted to do all morning. “ Well, now that we’ve cleaned up, how about rehearsing that scene in my play?” “ I’d love to!” And, there she began, on the way to her career of acting.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 6, 2008 12:53:28 GMT -5
[Thanks, Kit! Carmy and I are very glad you're enjoying it. And Carmy, you're a great writer! Writing is a craft just like art, so if you keep at it then you'll see that you get better and better. ] Esmé ran up the stairs to her room to retrieve her copy of The World is Quiet Here, forgetting momentarily about the watchful eyes on the wall. Maybe she would get used to this place… Esmé still had yet to unpack her things, but that could wait until later. Right now, the only thing on her mind was to impress her acting teacher. She snatched her book out of her suitcase and then raced back downstairs. “That certainly didn’t take you very long,” Olaf said when Esmé returned to the living room. “If there’s one thing that a great actress must remember, it’s passion. Passion is the key to succeeding in the world of acting. You keep that in mind.” “I’ll be sure to remember that,” Esmé said as she slid down into her chair and opened up her book. “What scene were you thinking of rehearsing?” “Well, I was thinking of doing this one.” Esmé flipped her book around and slid it across the table toward Olaf. She indicated with one finger, with its chipped red nail polish, scene one act two. “But it requires me to whistle, which I’m not very good at. I’ve been practicing for weeks and weeks, but I still haven’t gotten the hang of it.”
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