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The Ten-Year-Old Necromancer: Chapter Eleven, Part One

by Horisun


I left an editor's note for myself towards the end of this chapter. It makes things a bit jarring, but if you could disregard it, that'd be great. Thank you. 

I’ve had an idea. The whole walk home I spend turning it over in my mind. When I’m done scouring it for holes, I move on towards foraging for a plan. By dinner, it’s all fleshed out in my head, ready to roll.

It’s the kind of idea that could get someone killed. But it’s also the kind that could get someone not-killed, so to speak. Frankly, it’s the kind that someone should’ve thought of well before I did.

After we pick our plates clean of spaghetti, Grandma and I shuffle off to bed. “Goodnight!” I call, watching her retreat into the back of the dark hallway. Her door clicks shut behind her. I find myself rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. Quickly, as though there is someone judging me, I stop fidgeting and straighten my back.

At school, I never got points for creativity. I always followed instructions to their precise specification. I prided myself on saying exactly what teachers wanted me to say. I didn’t know whether this plan of mine would change that, or if it was just a culmination of a long string of unoriginality.

I don’t bother getting dressed- my pajamas are warm and fluffy and should protect my arms and legs from stray thorns and branches. They are an abhorrent shade of flamingo pink, like they were cut from a crazy cat ladies bath rug. But it’s not like anyone is going to see me in them, anyway.

I do slip on my sneakers, soaked through entirely by mud. I take a moment to mourn their once pristine shape before I enact the first stage of my plan.

There’s a screen door leading to the back porch at the end of the hallway. I sneak through the shadows towards it, feeling very much like an action hero. I brush the curtain aside, and slowly slide open the door. I freeze, as it shrieks against the silence.

I listen, but I don’t hear Grandma stir.

Emboldened, I slip silently through the small crack I made, and close the door shut behind me. Quicker this time, to rip off the band-aid. It’s only then, when the summer air hits me, that I realize what I’m doing. Where I’m going.

To meet my dad.

I feel jittery. It’s not cold, but I’m quivering. Henry could have all the answers, or he’ll just be one more adult who abandoned me.

The backyard leads straight into an uphill slope. As soon as I step off the rickety porch, my toes are pointing up towards the sky. I clamber up it, stumbling only once, my pajamas soaking up dew drops on the grass. I grit my teeth, already considering turning back and grabbing proper clothes.

From the top of the hill, you can see the whole roof of Grandmas house. It’s almost camouflaged against this pocket of swamp.

I turn and am faced with the woods.

Cold dread wraps it’s icy fingers around my throat, and it takes me a minute to remember why- I nearly tumble back down the hill, and have just enough sense to stutter forward, preventing that from happening.

Undead infest this forest, and I need to know why. My dad having any answers is a shot in the dark, but it’s one more reason to try and do this.

Get a grip, I tell myself, my nails digging crescents into my palms. This is easy enough. Just take the first step.

I comply. I shake the worry from my mind, like I do cobwebs from my bike helmet, and push onward. Everything looks different, in the dark. The trees twist into weird, half truths of themselves. My feet know where they are going, though, so I let them lead the way.

I don’t see the hill; I feel it. The slow climb upward begins, and I barely realize it until I’m above the tree line. The gravestone is silhouetted against the night sky. All in all, it’s very cinematic.

Lightning bugs dot the hill, like the stars flew over to say hello. There are so many, more than there ever were at home. They are a blizzard of green fire, bathing the hill in an unearthly glow. I can read the gravestones epitaph perfectly well.

I sit, criss cross apple sauce in front of my fathers gravestone. “Hi,” I say, because I feel a proper greeting is in order. “I’m Kimberly. Though you should call me Kim. I’m your daughter.”

I extend my hand, as though there’s a ghost to shake it. Of course, there isn’t- not yet. I drop my arm to my side and incline my head.

“You’re dead. And, I think that kind of sucks. It makes Mom sad, anyway. And Grandma too, probably.” I twiddle my thumbs, “And, me too, I think.”

There’s a shuffling behind me. A hushed voice whispers, “I told you she was crazy.”

I jolt shoots up my spine and I whirl around, “Who’s there?” I demand.

The brush rustles with indecision, before Jasmine and her cronies reveal themselves.

“What the heck are you guys doing here?”

[insert a totally legit explanation here, curtesy of editor me]

“Wow,” I say, “That is a totally legit explanation, thanks a bunch.”

“Back to what you’re doing, witch.” Says Jasmine. Even in the dark, her sneer is prevalent. But there’s something about the way her face glows in the fireflies light. It dawns on me- at possibly the worst time in the history of ever- that Jasmine is very pretty.

I stand up, and position myself firmly in front of the grave, “It’s none of your business what I’m doing. You all should go away before you get yourselves hurt.”

I don’t actually think they’re in any danger- but they’re all clearly at least a little afraid of me-The redhead looks in danger of toppling over from fright- so a little bit of intimidation can’t exactly hurt.

Jasmine narrows her eyes at me, then at the grave. She crosses her arms, and says, “Well? Go on then. Show us.” She glances at her friends, some of whom have already backed partway down the hill, “Show them.

A chill runs down my spine, “What do you mean?”

“You’re a necromancer, just like your grandmother. You told me so. So-“ she points at the grave, rather petulantly, “Show us!” 


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Fri Dec 16, 2022 5:44 pm
KateHardy wrote a review...



Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Okayyy well this seems like the start of a somewhat dangerous turning point for Kim here with her little secret plan here and especially with what happens at the end which seems like its only going to end with Kim summoning something and what proceeds to follow that.

Anyway let's get right to it,

I’ve had an idea. The whole walk home I spend turning it over in my mind. When I’m done scouring it for holes, I move on towards foraging for a plan. By dinner, it’s all fleshed out in my head, ready to roll.

It’s the kind of idea that could get someone killed. But it’s also the kind that could get someone not-killed, so to speak. Frankly, it’s the kind that someone should’ve thought of well before I did.


Well that doesn't seem like it bodes particularly well for anything at the moment. Kim seems determined to think outside the box from the looks of it and so far all the ideas that have been a result of Kim doing things beyond what she's currently been taught to do haven't ended particularly well for her.

After we pick our plates clean of spaghetti, Grandma and I shuffle off to bed. “Goodnight!” I call, watching her retreat into the back of the dark hallway. Her door clicks shut behind her. I find myself rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. Quickly, as though there is someone judging me, I stop fidgeting and straighten my back.

At school, I never got points for creativity. I always followed instructions to their precise specification. I prided myself on saying exactly what teachers wanted me to say. I didn’t know whether this plan of mine would change that, or if it was just a culmination of a long string of unoriginality.


Well this is already off to a terrifying start here. As much as its lovely to see Kim trying to get things done here and move forward with something the fact that she's gone and waited specifically for night time and for grandma to be asleep doesn't sound like the greatest of combinations here.

I don’t bother getting dressed- my pajamas are warm and fluffy and should protect my arms and legs from stray thorns and branches. They are an abhorrent shade of flamingo pink, like they were cut from a crazy cat ladies bath rug. But it’s not like anyone is going to see me in them, anyway.

I do slip on my sneakers, soaked through entirely by mud. I take a moment to mourn their once pristine shape before I enact the first stage of my plan.

There’s a screen door leading to the back porch at the end of the hallway. I sneak through the shadows towards it, feeling very much like an action hero. I brush the curtain aside, and slowly slide open the door. I freeze, as it shrieks against the silence.


Well... Kim definitely seems to think she's a bit of an action hero from the sheer number of risks she seems to take, but I suppose you should at least give her points for staying out of trouble for a month and maybe having something of a plan this time before running into the swamp although everything being fully night here might not be a bonus.

Emboldened, I slip silently through the small crack I made, and close the door shut behind me. Quicker this time, to rip off the band-aid. It’s only then, when the summer air hits me, that I realize what I’m doing. Where I’m going.

To meet my dad.

I feel jittery. It’s not cold, but I’m quivering. Henry could have all the answers, or he’ll just be one more adult who abandoned me.


Well that seems like an extremely bad plan there unless of course Kim's dad has somehow managed to go ahead and become not dead across since we saw him in the previous. That certainly doesn't seem particularly likely at the moment.

The backyard leads straight into an uphill slope. As soon as I step off the rickety porch, my toes are pointing up towards the sky. I clamber up it, stumbling only once, my pajamas soaking up dew drops on the grass. I grit my teeth, already considering turning back and grabbing proper clothes.

From the top of the hill, you can see the whole roof of Grandmas house. It’s almost camouflaged against this pocket of swamp.

I turn and am faced with the woods.


Well there we go, it seems we've gotten sort of to the point of no return there with Kim successfully making it all the way out and to the point where the real woods begin. At the very least we get to see more evidence of quite how brave Kame is here.

Cold dread wraps it’s icy fingers around my throat, and it takes me a minute to remember why- I nearly tumble back down the hill, and have just enough sense to stutter forward, preventing that from happening.

Undead infest this forest, and I need to know why. My dad having any answers is a shot in the dark, but it’s one more reason to try and do this.

Get a grip, I tell myself, my nails digging crescents into my palms. This is easy enough. Just take the first step.


Well here we go, Kim at least seems to be a lot more aware of the dangers this time and you can see she isn't just charging in with absolutely no regard for anything. This walking in slowly thing seems to be significantly scarier but I think ultimately that will only benefit Kim in the long run of this.

I comply. I shake the worry from my mind, like I do cobwebs from my bike helmet, and push onward. Everything looks different, in the dark. The trees twist into weird, half truths of themselves. My feet know where they are going, though, so I let them lead the way.

I don’t see the hill; I feel it. The slow climb upward begins, and I barely realize it until I’m above the tree line. The gravestone is silhouetted against the night sky. All in all, it’s very cinematic.

Lightning bugs dot the hill, like the stars flew over to say hello. There are so many, more than there ever were at home. They are a blizzard of green fire, bathing the hill in an unearthly glow. I can read the gravestones epitaph perfectly well.


I am loving the descriptions here. I think you're doing a pretty solid job with those in terms of really capitalizing on that generally extremely creepy vibe that we have spreading across this whole place. It definitely sets you in the right mood for what's about to take place right here.

I sit, criss cross apple sauce in front of my fathers gravestone. “Hi,” I say, because I feel a proper greeting is in order. “I’m Kimberly. Though you should call me Kim. I’m your daughter.”

I extend my hand, as though there’s a ghost to shake it. Of course, there isn’t- not yet. I drop my arm to my side and incline my head.

“You’re dead. And, I think that kind of sucks. It makes Mom sad, anyway. And Grandma too, probably.” I twiddle my thumbs, “And, me too, I think.”


Okayy well this seems like a safe enough start at the moment. Its clear Kim does want to do some summoning she probably shouldn't even be attempting at this point, but having her start by just talking there and trying something feels very realistic there all of a sudden. She does seem to be in need of an adult figure of some sort to confide her current thoughts in.

There’s a shuffling behind me. A hushed voice whispers, “I told you she was crazy.”

I jolt shoots up my spine and I whirl around, “Who’s there?” I demand.

The brush rustles with indecision, before Jasmine and her cronies reveal themselves.

“What the heck are you guys doing here?”

“Wow,” I say, “That is a totally legit explanation, thanks a bunch.”


Well that definitely doesn't seem particularly great although I really have a hard time imagining that particular gang as anything resembling a threat here. At the very least I like that its different in how the children aren't actually helping each other but we almost see the villain's sort of POV in a typical children's novel where we've got the ones trying to save the town interfering in Kim's business and sneaking in places they shouldn't be.

“Back to what you’re doing, witch.” Says Jasmine. Even in the dark, her sneer is prevalent. But there’s something about the way her face glows in the fireflies light. It dawns on me- at possibly the worst time in the history of ever- that Jasmine is very pretty.

I stand up, and position myself firmly in front of the grave, “It’s none of your business what I’m doing. You all should go away before you get yourselves hurt.”

I don’t actually think they’re in any danger- but they’re all clearly at least a little afraid of me-The redhead looks in danger of toppling over from fright- so a little bit of intimidation can’t exactly hurt.


Well they definitely don't seem like the sort to frequently fight witches but the mere fact that they are brave enough to be so far from home in this dark forest which is popular for its screams and in a graveyard no less is something to their credit.

Jasmine narrows her eyes at me, then at the grave. She crosses her arms, and says, “Well? Go on then. Show us.” She glances at her friends, some of whom have already backed partway down the hill, “Show them.”

A chill runs down my spine, “What do you mean?”

“You’re a necromancer, just like your grandmother. You told me so. So-“ she points at the grave, rather petulantly, “Show us!”


Well.... Jasmine just keeps getting more and more annoying with each passing chapter but somehow she also gets more and more hilarious as a result so I'm not complaining. I am very intrigued to see what Kim ends up doing here though.

Aaaaand that's it for this one.

Overall: Overall another exciting chapter here. This one feels like a particularly important chapter and given this is chapter eleven it does seem like its about time for something of a turning point too, so let's see where this takes us.

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry




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Mon Nov 28, 2022 1:07 pm
vampricone6783 wrote a review...



Goodness, Jasmine! You should know not to to stick your nose in things you don’t understand. Bad things happen to kids who creep to places they aren’t supposed to creep…*insert evil laugh*. But seriously, I like that the Dad is being involved more. Let’s see if Kim’s plan works and Henry gives answers. Beatrice said that the dead don’t have souls, so he might just attack her. Even if it did work, he won’t speak with Jasmine and co around. So much to think about..

I wish you a lovely day/night!





[as a roleplayer is feeling sad about torturing her characters] GrandWild: "You're a writer, dear. Embrace it."
— GrandWild