Young Writers Society

Before reading:

Please, do not be too harsh in critiquing the stange words used and the odd plot. This is intended to be nonsensical to a point and it does -in fact- have a plot.

Thank you.

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Knock, K-nock?

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Introducing We

Dear Strange Acquaintance,

There are many people that consider story telling a complete bore. We are not those people. We care for mastermind conversations and meaningless dialogue. People may think that confusing, but We do not. We live in a house like most common people and most infrequent people.

Are you still unsure of whom We are? Well then, my friend, you obviously were not paying interest in this note. We have clearly stated ourselves as the tellers of this tale (or so it would seem).

Now to explain our yarn to be told; this story is about a girl; who for now shall remained anonymous, until she need have a name; and a boy, who we'll call Georgee (though he does not like to be called that, We'll do it to spite him); and a very small house that is rather large. Oh yes, this story is also about the people who inhabit this house. We suppose We should include them; there is Mr. Mann, Mrs. Mann, Mrs. Seovul, Clarkson, the Maid, the Butler, and all those who occupy a part of the house that is unexplored.

We suppose that is all We should explain to you and let you find out the rest on your own. We know We have not explained the story at all but the plot is irrelevant, the characters personalities are trivial, and even most of the setting is just a complete irk. Interesting, is where the dialogue lies. How we love to overhear conversations of such futility.

Now then on with show! For what is a show without scenes? What would be with only my petty note to you? We wonder on this. Now then, on with the show!

Conveniently,

The Accommodation

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The Girl

The Girl

The car stopped just at a path that was long and winding. It was cobblestone and continued over a few green-rolling hills. The Girl's Mother turned around and looked to look at her. "Well, dear, here we are at Aunties. Now then your father will help you with your bags, and you be good for your Aunt. We'll be back Monday to pick you up."

Her Father got out of the car and came around to the door and opened it for her. She stepped out of the car. Her hair was in a very long braid, down the side of her head. The Girl's eyes were wide and an amber color. Like the eye of a cat and, like a cat, the poor Girl was curious.

Down the hill towards her Aunt's all you could see was a fog. Her Father walked her down the long cobblestone path. They walked and walked. They walked through a swamp, a forest and a dry deserted place, quite like a deserted isle. However deserted isles are always covered with water and strange creatures like Hiders, which haven't been discovered because of their tendency to hide extremely well. It began to rain as they could just see the outline of the house.

The house was crooked and sat like a very long rectangle. This was a gauche thing because most houses are meant to be square and small and pleasant. Whereas this house was tall and dark and on the second floor there were no windows visible. The rest of the floors were a mere shadow midst the murkiness.

The Girl's Father and herself approached the house and climbed up the two steps that led onto the front porch. As the Girl began to see the undersized door on the left of the building (instead of the center of the wall where doors ought to be) she began to feel like a giant and almost crushed Wilhelmina's hand. (Wilhelmina is a friend of the Girl who her father now took from her and stuffed inside her suitcase.)

"Now then," began her Father, as he bent down slightly to look at her, "I expect you will be good for your Aunt and since this being your first time meeting her: I think you should know she rather doesn't take well to dolls. I suggest you keep Wilhelmina close and out of sight, as well."

This advice made the Girl shiver a bit and she felt herself begin to shrink now. As her Father straightened and knocked on the door. The knock seemed to echo all around them and a lot of bats flew past the door. One even landed on the porch and lay there in exhaustion. The bat opened its mouth and spoke loud and clear: "Girl! Get away from here your Aunt is an evil witch who cooks bats eyes and eats them. She owns a vacuum cleaner, which she flies on full moons. In shimmering jars she keeps malicious things. With a tug of her ear she'll turn you into a toad, and your Father into a rat, and keep you both in cage, and all day you will sit and recite poetry." And the Girl's Father snatched her up in his arms and turned and ran back from whence he had safely come. A disaster had been averted.

At least it would've been, if it weren't that the door were opened just as the Bat begun to squeak. There was a little old looking lady standing at the door, who let out a loud cackle of a laugh when she saw the Girl. Her Father pushed her along and somehow she was inside the house with her suitcase before she could spell the word "facilitate" (and she was quite good with helping bees to spell).

It's funny how that happens. One moment you're in a beautiful green meadow picking chrysanthemums and the next you're in a sordid, oily, black pond in Timbuktu where birds and the trees laugh at you. It's akin to the whole world going in fast-forward and somehow the pollution in the air affects your head and you can't remember anything of the sort.

"Auntie?" asked the Girl, as she looked up at the cackling lady.

"No, child. You may call me that if you wish, but my name is Lady Seovul. However I am enamored to congregate you."

That is one of the things about Lady Seovul. She's a lovely Lady and very good at making blueberry cookies in the shape of little crows on Monday afternoons but she is not so good at speaking justifiably. She uses the largest words and some of them are very droll, however some are so big that no one ever understands what she is trying to say. The only one that can understand her would be the Girl's Aunt.

"Your Aunt is not in the domicile at the jiffy, my honey. She is absent to go and get some warmer blankets for you, and several supplementary jars of jam for Clarkson and I," said Lady Seovul with not even a snicker.

Although the Girl found her speaking strange she did not laugh, because it is impolite to laugh at one's manner of anything. Even if the manner is utterly and preposterously riotous.

"And who is Clarkson?" asked the Girl.

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"Subsequent chapter to be revealed in next to no time," avowed We.

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EDITS (Note for myself)

*NEEDS TO EDITED!

"The Narrators or The Accommodation" to "The Accommodation"

"We wonder on this." to "We wonder on this. Now then, on with the show!"

"...and about a boy" to "...and a boy"

"...and about a very small..." to "...and a very small..."