Why thank you Angela But seriously, don't give up on writing and this story because of those crappy roles plays 'cuz you have talent, girl! -Nightmare
OH. MY. GLOB!!! This has to be one of the best stories in like FOREVER!!!! BUMP There just one problem. You need to wall me when you write and update or I go Charlie Sheen ALL over you. WINNING!!!BUMP. Again.
I'm so sorry I haven't been updating, but there's a family issue that has taken up most of my time, so I won't be able to update for a little while. Thank you for bumping this so it doesn't die!!
Finally updating! ~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~ Alexis, Albert’s sister, crept upstairs. Unlike Albert, she would have been popular if she went to a normal school, instead of staying in Mrs. Crawb’s mansion, because she was an expert at fashion advice, and always wore stylish clothes. Time and time again she would beg to give Albert a makeover, but to no avail. But despite appearances, she was just as cunning and deceitful as her brother. Brushing a lock of lush brown hair out of her face with a manicured nail, Alexis peered at the sign on Amber’s door. Warning: I am sick. Come in at your own risk. She blinked her long lashes at the sign, as if hoping the sign would disappear if she blinked hard enough. But it was no use. As she blinked some more, she heard the sound of someone retching from inside. Curling her lip in disgust, she turned to walk back downstairs. “It’s so annoying,” she muttered. “Albert always gets the good jobs, while I get stuck with the boring jobs. I don’t even get to harass Amber, because she’s sick. It’s not fair!” Because Alexis was so distracted, she didn’t notice the faint whirring sound, almost as if there was a CD playing… Albert lounged in his armchair, stroking the armrest. Call him weird, but he loved the feel of the plush upholstery against his palm. He opened his book to start reading, but froze when he heard a faint scuffling sound behind him. “Alexis? Is that you?” he called, but there was no response. Then who was it? He wondered. Then instantly, he came to a conclusion. It must be one of Larry and Barry’s contraptions. They were always making gadgets, most of which moved around the house. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was nothing there. Satisfied, Albert leaned back in his chair and turned to his book, so absorbed in it that he didn’t see the mound of blankets quivering ever so slightly. Martha, the cook, stirred the pancake batter in the pot, the earphones in her ear making so much noise that a train could have gone by without her noticing. She sighed. It was so much work to make food for all of the kids now that Tina, her assistant cook, got fired. All over a few kind words to that poor kid, Amber. Tina had told her that it was a beautiful day and she should go outside, and the next thing you know, Mrs. Crawb was pulling Tina aside and telling her that she was fired. Oh well, at least she didn’t have to make food for the servants. Now that would be a lot of work. Bobbing her head to the music, Martha started singing along. “Oh yeah! I…” Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she whipped her head behind her. Phew, there was no one there. The cool breeze from outside blew in, fluttering her recipe to the ground. Frowning, she picked up the paper and went to the window. She thought she closed it before… Dave Bekkit shivered and stamped his feet against the cold. He much preferred having guard duty inside, but then again, who didn’t? Casting his gaze around the yard, Dave scanned for intruders. Satisfied no one was there, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Suddenly there was a loud popping sound against one of the trees. Startled, Dave rushed over, inspecting the tree. There were no bullet marks, so the tree couldn’t have been shot, and there were no speakers to provide the sound. So what was it? A faint rustling sound cut through Dave’s thoughts. He glanced around wildly. It must have come from the pile of leaves under the window… Just as he was going over to the mound, a faint shimmer on the ground caught his eye. Dave knelt down. There were marbles at the base of the tree. That must have been what caused the noise. As another rustle sounded, Dave knew whatever was in the leaves had gotten away. As he glanced towards the front door, he noticed something odd. “I must be hallucinating…” Dave muttered. “I swear there was a paper on the front step before…” I got the form! But it’s not really a form, just a note to Mrs. Crawb. I can’t understand what she’s trying to say. I’ll write the note down here. Anastasia, darling, I knew I could count on you, sweetheart. I’m afraid I was trying to order from that dimwitted Melanie, whose only intention was to sucker me and take my money, without giving me any results. This is what I need, Tasia. (I can call you that, right, darling?) ~One Shifter ~Three Galaxies ~One Antsy Ashraiz (Who was Ashraiz, anyways? And why did he get his name on this one? I know he created that originally, but you created the Galaxy, and you didn’t get your name on it!) ~Two Deathrages Thank you so much, Tasi. Gotta love someone who is clever enough to be able to make these! I tried so many times, followed the recipes exactly. But the recipes don’t even help. You have to have the right mood, the exact ingredients; it can’t even be a millimeter off… And on top of that, it runs mainly on intuition! I admire you, darling. Your favorite customer and biggest fan, Dottie What was that all about? It doesn’t make any sense… The only I know is that I don’t like the sound of a Deathrage. Dave cast his gaze around the yard yet again. There was no one there. Moaning under his breath, he looked inside the kitchen window. The cook was making something, no doubt something delicious, and he wouldn’t be able to eat it. No, he had to stay outside in the cold. Starving. Then he heard a noise. Almost like a bird or a bird’s wings flapping. A kind of fluttering sound. “Now, what would that be?” Dave muttered. There was nothing around to make that noise. There was a flash of white, and Dave turned to look at it. It was an envelope fluttering towards the front door. Picking it up, he noticed it was addressed to Mrs. Crawb… but who put it there? Shrugging, he put it back. “Not my problem,” Dave decided. ~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~ Not much is happening…:|