Post by Sixteen on Jun 27, 2012 11:18:43 GMT -5
Chapter 3
The now-familiar town square of 667 sprouted up around Kensicle. She pulled the car to a stop and stepped outside to investigate. Today was the release date of Lemony Snicket’s twelfth book, The Penultimate Peril. She knew the 667ers would have been celebrating on a day like this, and she was right. She glanced at the clock tower, which now appeared to be functioning properly and made her way to the Menacing Miscellaneous park.
Streamers were hung from tree to tree and members dashed around the place in extravagant gowns and costumes. Many were in disguise, with badges that read “date8” or “date29”. At the top of the park was a large banner that read “The Nameless Novel Ball”. It was clear that the ball had been going on for some time as some people looked tired and bored. Many of them were making their way to the main thoroughfare which was cobbled with stones that spelled out Burdensome Books. The members were taking to a stage one by one to discuss their most pertinent theories in light of the new book. Occasionally somebody would shout, “SPOILERS!!!” and half the crowd would plug their ears. Kensicle found it fascinating.
It wasn’t long before she realised she was standing in the queue for the stage. She felt giddy at the thought that she could partake in 667 history. This was her moment. Beaming, she stood before her peers and began to speak about the Hotel Denouement. The audience cheered and pumped their fists into the air. This was some of the most eloquent, well-constructed theorising they had heard all day. One member looked on in awe as she took out her phone.
“Hey, Tragedy,” she said, trying to speak over the enthusiastic crowd. “It’s me – your cousin – Woe. You know that new analysis you’ve been looking for? Well, listen to this!”
Kensicle was loving every minute on the stage. She got so swept up in the attention that, for a moment, she forgot when she was. Entwined with her speech about the Hotel was mention of the Island, of Ishmael and Caliban, of Beatrice and Beatrice. Kensicle hadn’t even noticed that the entire crowd had fallen silent. They were looking at her, mouths agape and eyebrows raised. She glanced down and remembered that The End hadn’t been written by this time.
“I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet,” she chuckled. “But in a few years, you’re gonna love it.”
She bashfully dismounted from the stage and ran back to her time machine.
The now-familiar town square of 667 sprouted up around Kensicle. She pulled the car to a stop and stepped outside to investigate. Today was the release date of Lemony Snicket’s twelfth book, The Penultimate Peril. She knew the 667ers would have been celebrating on a day like this, and she was right. She glanced at the clock tower, which now appeared to be functioning properly and made her way to the Menacing Miscellaneous park.
Streamers were hung from tree to tree and members dashed around the place in extravagant gowns and costumes. Many were in disguise, with badges that read “date8” or “date29”. At the top of the park was a large banner that read “The Nameless Novel Ball”. It was clear that the ball had been going on for some time as some people looked tired and bored. Many of them were making their way to the main thoroughfare which was cobbled with stones that spelled out Burdensome Books. The members were taking to a stage one by one to discuss their most pertinent theories in light of the new book. Occasionally somebody would shout, “SPOILERS!!!” and half the crowd would plug their ears. Kensicle found it fascinating.
It wasn’t long before she realised she was standing in the queue for the stage. She felt giddy at the thought that she could partake in 667 history. This was her moment. Beaming, she stood before her peers and began to speak about the Hotel Denouement. The audience cheered and pumped their fists into the air. This was some of the most eloquent, well-constructed theorising they had heard all day. One member looked on in awe as she took out her phone.
“Hey, Tragedy,” she said, trying to speak over the enthusiastic crowd. “It’s me – your cousin – Woe. You know that new analysis you’ve been looking for? Well, listen to this!”
Kensicle was loving every minute on the stage. She got so swept up in the attention that, for a moment, she forgot when she was. Entwined with her speech about the Hotel was mention of the Island, of Ishmael and Caliban, of Beatrice and Beatrice. Kensicle hadn’t even noticed that the entire crowd had fallen silent. They were looking at her, mouths agape and eyebrows raised. She glanced down and remembered that The End hadn’t been written by this time.
“I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet,” she chuckled. “But in a few years, you’re gonna love it.”
She bashfully dismounted from the stage and ran back to her time machine.
Seems like he's always dying in fics.
