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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 1, 2021 15:56:11 GMT -5
The Eleventh Hour
There is a building in the middle of the cities financial district that has, for almost 20 years, had a reputation of ill repute. It had begun with a fire that had started on the third floor, which had spread from that point up to decimate the buildings structure. Although the lower floors of the building had remained untouched, the building was abandoned, and it had soon fallen into despair and decay. In the intervening years, the building had remained the haunt of listless youths and callous thieves, with any manner of ill-intentioned and untoward occupants roaming about its dirty and dingy lower floors, and its even dirtier and dinger higher levels. But that was before the body.
A few years ago a body had been found on the steps leading up the building. The man had been in his late 70s, and if he did have a home he had not been to it in a long time. He had been stabbed, but this had not been immediately clear to the officers who had arrived on the scene. They could be forgiven for this, of course, because they were perhaps more preoccupied by the more unlikely elements of the deceased's situation.
He had been dressed in a strange outfit of almost entirely black clothing that looked as though it had barely been touched by human hands, let alone worn. These clothes did not much the body of a man in such dishevelment, nor the odour. In the left pocket of his jacket there was a golden pocket watch, with the phrase 'Fortuna Juvat' engraved in its casing. In the right pocket there was a small wooden ankh, with the numbers 6-6-7 marked into the wood. And in his hand was clenches a map, of a series of underground tunnels that ran through the centre of the city.
But that was not, unfortunately the most interesting thing about the deceased. In his dying moments the victim had seemingly decided to leave a message to those that would find him. As he had not had a pen or quill to hand, he was forced to leave the message in his own blood.
When his body had been found, a large, ominous, blood red question mark was next to it. It was a question that still remained unanswered.
Since the murder, the building had fallen even further in to disrepair and squalor. Its reputation, which had already been merrily bubbling along before a homeless man had the indecency to die upon its doorstop, took off in leaps and bounds. Now people had become too scared to even go near the place, too scared to see what remained inside, too scared to answer questions.
The police seemed keen to avoid the place as well. They had come up with answers - to both the fire and the murder, but they were all the wrong answers. They didn't know what what the pocket watch meant, nor the map, nor the question. They didn't know anything. Their inability to come a clear conclusion about the dead man - for that had not even been able to identify him - was their single biggest failure. They came up to their own conclusion, and they were wrong.
But there are those who do know the truth. And I'm sorry to tell you that this was only the beginning.
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Post by R. on Mar 1, 2021 16:13:23 GMT -5
Ok! I already suspect Esmé. Writers choose their words carefully, and I have a feeling that your use of the word ‘squalor’ is a subtle clue as to the culprit’s identity.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 1, 2021 16:13:44 GMT -5
This is very good. I'm curious. I like police stories a lot, and I like these stories even more within the ASOUE universe. You sure captured me here. I will watch anxiously.
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Post by misstastrophe on Mar 1, 2021 17:32:32 GMT -5
I'm really enjoying how darkly this is unfolding, excited to read more.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 1, 2021 17:33:41 GMT -5
This is very good. I'm curious. I like police stories a lot, and I like these stories even more within the ASOUE universe. You sure captured me here. I will watch anxiously. I want to keep my cards close to my chest, but I'm glad that I seem to be misleading people with the direction the story will take. I aim to post a 'segment' per day.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 2, 2021 7:36:10 GMT -5
March 1st 2021
10:02
Daniel woke with a feeling of intense tiredness. It seemed to him that each night he would drowsily stumble into bed only to awaken feeling as though the night had done nothing to alleviate him of his weariness. He lay there for a few moments, looking up at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, filled with a weighty sense of dread and foreboding. And that was just getting out of bed.
Eventually, he creaked his way upright, upwards, and became to stumble around his tiny apartment. When he pulled on the blinds he could see the street outside was filled with a thick dense fog, which accounted for the notable chill in the air this morning. There seemed to be so much fog these days, and it was getting harder and harder for him to see why he remained in this city at all.
His stomach argued with his choice of breakfast, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He couldn't face going outside, not in these troubled times, and not in this feeble old body. It had been long time since he'd done anything but go out to by food. He hadn't been to the theatre, he hadn't been to his publishers, and he hadn't been to that strange green mansion on the outskirts of town, not for years. And he hadn't heard from Lemony Snicket for even longer.
Daniel Handler had been Mr. Snicket's representative for the last 30 or so years. He had come to the job far later in life that had really been adequate, both for Daniel and for Lemony. Though at first their relationship had been a distant one, Daniel had eventually found himself drawn closer and closer into Mr. Snickets web of deceit, lies, and treachery. And then everything had gone quiet. Almost 20 years ago now, Snicket had dropped all lines of contact, and disappeared of the face of the earth. If only that had been the end of it.
Daniel grabbed his meal of burnt toast, black krim tomatoes, and orange juice that was so far past it's use by date that it that it could only be drunk with a grimace. He sank down on his settee, flicked on the television, and began to watch the morning news.
A few moments later, someone knocked on his door.
Daniel had moved in to this small languished apartment many years ago, and nobody had been none the wiser. In the time since he had barely seen or spoken to anyone. Nobody knew who he was, nobody knew he was there, and nobody ever knocked. He was so taken aback by this unexpected occurrence that he didn't know how to respond. Should he answer it? Or ignore it? But instead, the person knocking simply opened the door and walked in.
'You know, you should really look your door Mr. Handler.' Said the person. 'Someone untrustworthy might come in a disrupt everything.'
She was tall, elegant, with cascades of long dark hair running down her sides. She looked to be in her late thirties, and though it mas magnified by the dark and dank apartment in which she found herself, she was extremely beautiful.
'Who are you? What do you want?' said Daniel, with an exasperated sigh. It had been a long while, but this wasn't the first time someone had unexpectedly barged in on him
'I want you Mr. Handler. Gosh its dark in here.' She strode open to the window frame and pulled open the curtains. her heavy boots clanking loudly on the floor. As she light streamed in to the apartment, Daniel noticed that there was a strange black substance that looked like ink covering the bottom half of her legs
'And what do you want me for? I'm retired' He took a bite of toast in defiance
'In our line of work, Mr. Handler, one does not retire. We work until we are no longer required, or the work no longer requires.'
'I thought we were volunteers?'
'Oh we volunteer, yes, but volunteers work harder than anyone else, I think. We have more motive, more reason, more ambition.'
'And more to lose.'
She smiled at him. 'I know that this will be hard for you, Mr. Handler. But I need you to believe in something that is bigger than you. Bigger than any of us. I need you to trust me.'
'You could start by telling me how you found me. I've been off the map for a long time.'
'Not everyone's maps.' She reached in to her pocket, and handed him what she retrieved. It was a pocket watch set in gold, with the words 'Fortuna Juvat' engraved in its casing. When he opened it he found that it had 13 hours segmented on its face, which seemed to render the whole thing redundant. Not that it mattered - the time it was showing was incorrect anyway.
'What is the point of a watch with thirteen hours?'
She smiled at him 'For telling the time. Not conventional time, of course, but the time of something else. When you reach the eleventh hour, that's when we're in real trouble.'
Daniel looked at her for a moment. He could feel the weight of the watch growing heavier and heavier in his hand, until he could barely hold it anymore. 'What is this?'
'Its a start. I suppose I should introduce myself' She held out a delicately manicured hand for Daniel to shake. 'My name is Beatrice Baudelaire, and i'm trying to find my siblings, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny. I believe you can be of great assistance to me and if you help me I think we can find the truth. Together we will learn what happened, not just to my siblings, but to Mr. Snicket as well.'
10:07
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Post by Hermes on Mar 2, 2021 10:06:08 GMT -5
Oh, very exciting! I guessed from the start that this was set long after ASOUE, and the latest episode confirms it. This does lead to speculation about who the dead man might be, though.
The bit about deceit, lies and treachery suggests you are being influenced by Roxy.
Has your avatar any connection with this story?
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Post by the panopticountolaf on Mar 2, 2021 12:09:17 GMT -5
This isn't what I was expecting at all! Where are the animals in fancy costumes? Where's the great feast? Where are the adorable illustrations? I can't read about women with tattooed legs to my darling angels!!! 0/10. In all seriousness, this is excellent, Isadora Is a Door! I've never seen a fanfic utilize Daniel Handler as a character before -- I have a feeling that this will be truly unique. I can't wait to see where this goes.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Mar 2, 2021 12:28:09 GMT -5
This is a great start, MisterM! The fact it takes place right now makes it feel live and exciting, too. I liked this line especially: 'In our line of work, Mr. Handler, one does not retire. We work until we are no longer required ...'
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 2, 2021 12:54:57 GMT -5
Thank you for all the nice comments everyone. I'm enjoing this story more than anything else i've ever written, so I'm glad other people are sharing the experience. Oh, very exciting! I guessed from the start that this was set long after ASOUE, and the latest episode confirms it. This does lead to speculation about who the dead man might be, though. I will of course refrain from giving anything anyway, but I would be interested to hear what people speculate. Not intentionally. Not directly, but does give a hint as to my influences. This isn't what I was expecting at all! Where are the animals in fancy costumes? Where's the great feast? Where are the adorable illustrations? I can't read about women with tattooed legs to my darling angels!!! 0/10. This is supposed to the light and cheery opening This is a great start, MisterM! The fact it takes place right now makes it feel live and exciting, too. Although it takes place yesterday, of course... Mz hope is to post a new 'Segment' each day until our conclusion, which should be March 26th. I'm particularly interested in how tomorrow chapter will be recieved.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 2, 2021 16:33:38 GMT -5
It really, really, really, really, captured me. I'm even jealous. Can I conjecture that this story is backwards or at least out of order? That would explain some apparent clues ...
Ok ... what else can I guess ... Beatrice calls Klaus, Violet and Sunny "siblings" ... she doesn't call them either children or foster parents. Why? Who is this Beatrice really? I suppose I can conjecture that she is the mother of the best known Klaus, Sunny and Violet Baudelaire, who incidentally had siblings that had been presumed dead and that is why her children were named after them. Either that or Beatrice Jr chose to change the way she thinks about the three best-known Baudelaires. Although the second explanation is the simplest, and therefore must be the correct one, I will hope for the most complicated explanation.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 3, 2021 9:13:06 GMT -5
March 1st 2016
10:07
A sewer was no place to find a respectable woman, but Beatrice Baudelaire was getting used to it. She consulted the notes she had been given, holding a bulky flashlight in her other hand. The instructions were detailed, but one darkened tunnel looks pretty much like any other darkened tunnel, so she had to make sure she didn't get lost. After all, she was relatively new to this.
After careful consideration, she took a turning down the passage to her right, where the water began to run more thinly around her. After walking for another few minutes, she turned a corner, and then began to climb a rusty ladder down to another level. The deeper and deeper she went the more certain she felt about everything.
She found herself in a dark passageway that was made mostly out of heavy, archaic wood. There was no water here, and only a few damp patches of moss growing on the walls. She reached into her left pocket and took out the pocket watch. It was now 10 minutes past. She still had plenty of time, hours even, but the network of tunnels was vast, and she could end up being lost down here forever.
She began to walk along the passageway, her boots echoing softly on the wooden floor. The stench of the sewer was still clinging to her, but she could smell other things now. There was a hint of something sweet in the air, oddly mismatched with a harsh tone of ash. The floor creaked the further and further on that she went, almost taunting her with the threat to give way at any moment. If it did, she would only fall through to another passageway, she had been assured. But then she would be lost forever.
Beatrice could not say how long she walked for, but eventually she found it. It was a strange, black, inky substance, spread as though with a paintbrush. There were small traces of it on the ground, but the highest concentration of it was on the side of the wall just as the passage started to veer of the left. She knelt down and lightly brushed her hand against the substance. It was still warm. She was close.
'I never dreamed that I would find you in a place like this' Said a voice from behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned and rose quickly, shining her torch directly in the strangers face.
'On the contrary I've been expecting you, Mr. Snicket' She pocketed her directions and held out a hand for him to shake. He regarded it with fear and dread, and a sad smile grew upon his face. 'You're so much older than when I last saw you.'
'As are you.' He said, sombrely. His face was etched with a hundred lines, his hair unkempt and long, and a few wisps of a beard adorned the edges of his face.
'How long have you been down here?' Beatrice asked him, as she placed her hand into her pockets
'Time is simply a matter of perspective. For some, it may seem that I have been gone for years. To others, I may only be in the next room, making a pot of coffee and some ice cream sandwiches. As for myself, the coffee is all gone, my ice cream is melted, and I was sure that everyone was long past being interested in my whereabouts. It seems I was wrong about one of those, at least.' He sighed, and walked over to her side. He bent down to examine the strange substance.
'Why would anybody want to spend any time down here at all?'
Lemony rose to look at her again, his eyes full of mistrust and doubt. 'The same reason as you, I presume?'
'And what is reason is that?
'Hunting a beast.'
10.16
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 3, 2021 10:47:41 GMT -5
So apparently I was right, right? The story is being told out of order. Excellent! Very interesting. I remember the movie Memento. I had the DVD and I was making several theories with that film. I just noticed the dates now. Amazing! So Beatrice Jr had met Lemony before. (which makes the simplest alternative the real one, it seems ...). But do you know what I'm enjoying the most? The allegory. I'm not sure it's intentional, but I'm pretty sure. There is a clear allegory here that Lemony Snicket has gone unpublished for years. The little relevance that Asoue had since the finalization of ATWQ is represented by Lemony to be sways. Then in March 2016 the Netflix Netflix starts planning the asoue show. This is symbolized by Beatrice Jr being reunited with Lemony in the sewers. In other words, people started getting interested in Lemony Snicket again.
Edit: - If I can guess something, I guess that in some chapter we will have the presence of Moxie Mallahan (possibly in 2012, or perhaps in 2011).
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Mar 3, 2021 15:42:48 GMT -5
As always, Jean, you are on the right street but perhaps not going in the right direction.
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Black Ink
Mar 3, 2021 15:54:31 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Mar 3, 2021 15:54:31 GMT -5
Good to know ... I really have a lot more fun when I'm wrong.
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