Post by bandit on Mar 4, 2013 23:20:19 GMT -5
I thought I might try my hand at a sort of prequel - and an attempt at mimicking a Lemony Snicket narration.
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Chapter 1
The expression “down in the dumps” is a curious one, not only because there is usually only one dump that somebody could be down in, but also because people who say it are very rarely actually down in a dump. In most cases the phrase simply means, “having a melancholy attitude,” which would be fitting to say if one had just found out that their waiter had poisoned the delicious ratatouille they were eating, or one’s lifelong love had just rejected a sensible marriage proposal. The most fitting instance of “down in the dumps” possible, however, would probably lie with Herbert and George Auspice. As the two brothers attempted not to inhale the repugnant fumes enveloping them, they both noted that their predicament was truly one to be called “down in the dumps.”
It is a sad, and mostly unclear, fact of life that bad things tend to happen to good people, and such a fact is ultimately the only way one could describe the true reason of the Auspices’ misfortune. Herbert Auspice, who had just turned twelve, was a very gifted sonneteer, a word which here means “someone who writes rather difficult fourteen-line poems in their spare time,” and his thirteen-year-old brother George had spent countless hours of his life researching the fascinating culture of Korean Buddhism. However, these characteristics of adeptness are, unfortunately, not taken into account by the cruel hand of fate-- not when the youngsters were made orphans after a tragic fire, not when they were subsequently blamed for the theft of a very valuable painting, and certainly not when they reluctantly leaped into the depths of the city landfill site in order to evade the authorities.
“Herb? Are you there?” whispered George nervously, shaking a rotten grapefruit peel out of his tangled black hair. Although he was the elder of the two brothers, George was also the scrawnier and substantially more timid one, for he had spent the majority of his life clacking away at his typewriter with a cup of bitter tea, in lieu of trekking through Asian mountains searching for long-forgotten spiritual secrets.
“I’m here, George,” Herbert murmured back from under an enormous pile of tattered lamp shades. Herbert had a deep, smooth voice and, due to his years of mountain-climbing, a rather large build; he was noticeably sizable for a young boy, although his flowing black hair and astonishing facial features made up for the lack of conventional girth. Unlike his brother, who had the beady eyes and aquiline nose of an individual who might have lived off of acidic coffee since birth, Herbert had a round and pleasant face that is commonly associated with trustworthy doormen and cheery taxi drivers.
“I haven’t heard a noise in quite some time,” responded George, peeking his head out from the mounds of trash in order to view his surroundings. “Do you think the officers may have departed by now?”
Herbert nodded and, after realizing his brother could not see him from beneath the litter, said, “Yes. We should probably keep moving now.” With one swift and quiet move, Herbert lifted the bulk off of himself and helped George out from under the metal frame of an umbrella that had become ensnared on his foot.
The city landfill site was imprudently placed directly on the edge of a set of oft-used railroad tracks, so a number of waste dumpers had undoubtedly fallen to a perilous death at the very place the Auspice brothers were standing, and it was with this thought in mind that Herbert and George took each others’ hands and prepared to cross the rusty metal trail. However, just as Herbert was about to take one cautious step onto the gravel, a strange sort of roar echoed through the night’s thick fog and the siblings turned to find a car slowly approaching them.
As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the Auspices were children that unquestionably had above average intelligence for their age, and so I’m also sure you have not been thinking to yourself such ridiculous things while you read as “Egad, the authorities have located the protagonists!” or “Drat, why don’t those foolish children run when they see a sinister car in the darkness?” Although the vehicle did indeed look fairly sinister in the darkness, most things tend to seem that way in the darkness no matter what nature they are truly of, and in any case, the orphans were already quite sure of the car’s nature the moment they heard its familiar sputter.
“Egad!” cried the voice of a sickly man who had just stuck his head out of the automobile, “Why didn’t you foolish children run when you saw a sinister car in the darkness?”
“We were quite sure of the car’s nature the moment we heard its familiar sputter, Hal,” George called out as the engine died down and the man shakily stepped out onto the pathway.
“I’ve told you not to address me by my first name, George,” said the man with a frown, looking down at the children huddled together on the edge of the tracks. Ever since their house and parents had been reduced to ashes in a disastrous fire six months ago, the Auspice siblings had had a very complicated acquaintanceship with Mr. Hal Wah, who was not of Asian descent, but certainly was a curious individual. Herbert and George had first been introduced to him on a rather unpleasant stay in the care of Heimlich Hospital as they recovered from the noxious fumes of the house fire, for the entire family had been present on that unfortunate day, but only the two children had managed to escape.
During some of Herbert’s dreadful and considerably lengthy coughing fits, George would travel down to an enormous library of records situated in the basement of the hospital, where Mr. Wah managed the majority of the files and, incidentally, was one of the few adults George had met in this cruel world that did not disregard orphans. Since then, I’m sorry to report that the Auspices and Mr. Wah had a rather disconnected alliance; although he was clearly not the kind of man to believe that small children were guilty of larceny, a word which here means “the burglary of an expensive piece of artwork that may or may not have contained the sinister secret behind a certain organization,” Mr. Wah was also not an especially helpful person when it came to urgent situations. Because of this, the unsteady tie between Herbert, George, and Mr. Wah had since become even more unknotted after the orphans’ escape from the Derelict Detention Domicile and their ensuing time at large, a phrase which here means “frequently hiding in landfill sites.” On account of this, the Auspices gained a somewhat odd feeling when the uneven growl of Mr. Wah’s rusty old car became audible in the nightfall, and they were happy to hear that what their companion said next answered most of their questions.
“Well, children,” spoke Mr. Wah gruffly, patting down his wrinkled tweed suit jacket, “I think I now have enough reason to wish for both of you to stay in my home for a few weeks.”
The brothers exchanged confused but slightly excited glances. “What would that reason be, Mr. Wah?” asked Herbert eventually, attempting to keep a distant tone, although he genuinely was curious.
The man paused for a moment and frowned. “Why, for your own safety, of course,” he said. “And although I managed enough self-discipline not to read the entire thing, I did find a file in the Library of Records that could support your innocence with the whole case of that burglary.”
George said, “A file? How much of it did you read?”
Mr. Wah smiled down at the orphans. “If you come along, I’ll tell you everything.”
Herbert and George smiled back at their old friend and, with one anxious leap over the steel rails dug into the ground, they both proceeded to the big black shadow visible across the pathway. Although their lives had been wrought with misery for what felt like years now, and the siblings had to admit to themselves that things were still quite muddled as a whole, a small amount of good fortune seemed to have appeared out of the murkiness. It was indeed nice to see a familiar face, and sit in the back seat of a familiar vehicle, and talk about familiar things. As Mr. Hal Wha doddered into the car that was almost as old he was, the Auspices couldn’t help but feel like they hadn’t been down in the dumps in a long time.
---
Chapter 1
The expression “down in the dumps” is a curious one, not only because there is usually only one dump that somebody could be down in, but also because people who say it are very rarely actually down in a dump. In most cases the phrase simply means, “having a melancholy attitude,” which would be fitting to say if one had just found out that their waiter had poisoned the delicious ratatouille they were eating, or one’s lifelong love had just rejected a sensible marriage proposal. The most fitting instance of “down in the dumps” possible, however, would probably lie with Herbert and George Auspice. As the two brothers attempted not to inhale the repugnant fumes enveloping them, they both noted that their predicament was truly one to be called “down in the dumps.”
It is a sad, and mostly unclear, fact of life that bad things tend to happen to good people, and such a fact is ultimately the only way one could describe the true reason of the Auspices’ misfortune. Herbert Auspice, who had just turned twelve, was a very gifted sonneteer, a word which here means “someone who writes rather difficult fourteen-line poems in their spare time,” and his thirteen-year-old brother George had spent countless hours of his life researching the fascinating culture of Korean Buddhism. However, these characteristics of adeptness are, unfortunately, not taken into account by the cruel hand of fate-- not when the youngsters were made orphans after a tragic fire, not when they were subsequently blamed for the theft of a very valuable painting, and certainly not when they reluctantly leaped into the depths of the city landfill site in order to evade the authorities.
“Herb? Are you there?” whispered George nervously, shaking a rotten grapefruit peel out of his tangled black hair. Although he was the elder of the two brothers, George was also the scrawnier and substantially more timid one, for he had spent the majority of his life clacking away at his typewriter with a cup of bitter tea, in lieu of trekking through Asian mountains searching for long-forgotten spiritual secrets.
“I’m here, George,” Herbert murmured back from under an enormous pile of tattered lamp shades. Herbert had a deep, smooth voice and, due to his years of mountain-climbing, a rather large build; he was noticeably sizable for a young boy, although his flowing black hair and astonishing facial features made up for the lack of conventional girth. Unlike his brother, who had the beady eyes and aquiline nose of an individual who might have lived off of acidic coffee since birth, Herbert had a round and pleasant face that is commonly associated with trustworthy doormen and cheery taxi drivers.
“I haven’t heard a noise in quite some time,” responded George, peeking his head out from the mounds of trash in order to view his surroundings. “Do you think the officers may have departed by now?”
Herbert nodded and, after realizing his brother could not see him from beneath the litter, said, “Yes. We should probably keep moving now.” With one swift and quiet move, Herbert lifted the bulk off of himself and helped George out from under the metal frame of an umbrella that had become ensnared on his foot.
The city landfill site was imprudently placed directly on the edge of a set of oft-used railroad tracks, so a number of waste dumpers had undoubtedly fallen to a perilous death at the very place the Auspice brothers were standing, and it was with this thought in mind that Herbert and George took each others’ hands and prepared to cross the rusty metal trail. However, just as Herbert was about to take one cautious step onto the gravel, a strange sort of roar echoed through the night’s thick fog and the siblings turned to find a car slowly approaching them.
As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the Auspices were children that unquestionably had above average intelligence for their age, and so I’m also sure you have not been thinking to yourself such ridiculous things while you read as “Egad, the authorities have located the protagonists!” or “Drat, why don’t those foolish children run when they see a sinister car in the darkness?” Although the vehicle did indeed look fairly sinister in the darkness, most things tend to seem that way in the darkness no matter what nature they are truly of, and in any case, the orphans were already quite sure of the car’s nature the moment they heard its familiar sputter.
“Egad!” cried the voice of a sickly man who had just stuck his head out of the automobile, “Why didn’t you foolish children run when you saw a sinister car in the darkness?”
“We were quite sure of the car’s nature the moment we heard its familiar sputter, Hal,” George called out as the engine died down and the man shakily stepped out onto the pathway.
“I’ve told you not to address me by my first name, George,” said the man with a frown, looking down at the children huddled together on the edge of the tracks. Ever since their house and parents had been reduced to ashes in a disastrous fire six months ago, the Auspice siblings had had a very complicated acquaintanceship with Mr. Hal Wah, who was not of Asian descent, but certainly was a curious individual. Herbert and George had first been introduced to him on a rather unpleasant stay in the care of Heimlich Hospital as they recovered from the noxious fumes of the house fire, for the entire family had been present on that unfortunate day, but only the two children had managed to escape.
During some of Herbert’s dreadful and considerably lengthy coughing fits, George would travel down to an enormous library of records situated in the basement of the hospital, where Mr. Wah managed the majority of the files and, incidentally, was one of the few adults George had met in this cruel world that did not disregard orphans. Since then, I’m sorry to report that the Auspices and Mr. Wah had a rather disconnected alliance; although he was clearly not the kind of man to believe that small children were guilty of larceny, a word which here means “the burglary of an expensive piece of artwork that may or may not have contained the sinister secret behind a certain organization,” Mr. Wah was also not an especially helpful person when it came to urgent situations. Because of this, the unsteady tie between Herbert, George, and Mr. Wah had since become even more unknotted after the orphans’ escape from the Derelict Detention Domicile and their ensuing time at large, a phrase which here means “frequently hiding in landfill sites.” On account of this, the Auspices gained a somewhat odd feeling when the uneven growl of Mr. Wah’s rusty old car became audible in the nightfall, and they were happy to hear that what their companion said next answered most of their questions.
“Well, children,” spoke Mr. Wah gruffly, patting down his wrinkled tweed suit jacket, “I think I now have enough reason to wish for both of you to stay in my home for a few weeks.”
The brothers exchanged confused but slightly excited glances. “What would that reason be, Mr. Wah?” asked Herbert eventually, attempting to keep a distant tone, although he genuinely was curious.
The man paused for a moment and frowned. “Why, for your own safety, of course,” he said. “And although I managed enough self-discipline not to read the entire thing, I did find a file in the Library of Records that could support your innocence with the whole case of that burglary.”
George said, “A file? How much of it did you read?”
Mr. Wah smiled down at the orphans. “If you come along, I’ll tell you everything.”
Herbert and George smiled back at their old friend and, with one anxious leap over the steel rails dug into the ground, they both proceeded to the big black shadow visible across the pathway. Although their lives had been wrought with misery for what felt like years now, and the siblings had to admit to themselves that things were still quite muddled as a whole, a small amount of good fortune seemed to have appeared out of the murkiness. It was indeed nice to see a familiar face, and sit in the back seat of a familiar vehicle, and talk about familiar things. As Mr. Hal Wha doddered into the car that was almost as old he was, the Auspices couldn’t help but feel like they hadn’t been down in the dumps in a long time.