Untitled (standard:fantasy, 7178 words)
Author: Julia	Added: Dec 23 2008	Views/Reads: 2787/1947	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Incomplete. Stephanie Black fights against the "Orange Eyed Monsters". I'm no good at explaining what it's about: read to find out more.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

which that would bring to you!” 

Paleromo Rucahnda's whole body shook.  “I...I just had to.  There was no
way to...all the secrets we've shared...I couldn't keep this from her!” 


“You have for long enough, why not any longer?” The king growled.  “You
know that we will be forced to trust you no more.” 

“What is your punishment?”  Paleromo whispered, his hands curled into
fists, his knuckles turning white. 

“Your death is the only way that I see to keep going in peace.” 

“How does death result in peace?” 

“Do not question my authority!  Do not argue against the ways of the
king!” 

Paleromo stared into the king's eyes.  “How did you become king, anyway?
 You are certainly not qualified for the job.  Look at the way you 
solve things!  Oh, that might possibly be of harm to us, kill it!  
Kill, kill, kill, is that the only way you rule?!” 

King Garasonah dropped his hand from the jade necklace.  He leaned
forward slightly.  His voice dropped to a near whisper, yet seemed to 
project across the room as easily as if he'd shouted.  “I told you to 
not question my authority.  She could have told anyone with the time it 
took us to find her and be rid of her.  There may be some kind of 
threat still out there, silently plotting our downfall.  Do you know 
how much our kind has been hated in myths all around the world?  How 
much we are viewed as a threat?  As parasites?!?!” 

“There has never been our kind in myths, Your Highness.  We're not quite
wizards, we're not quite vampires...we're not quite human.  Instead we 
seem more of a mix of the three.  And they're all quite formidable 
creatures, now aren't they?” 

King Garasonah laughed hollowly.  “Yes, quite a sorry mix.  Yet our kind
is failing us, we're dying out - we need more of our kind!  And here 
you are, helping the humans to catch on to our plot?” 

Paleromo shook his head.  “Only her,” he said.  “I couldn't stand it if
she was changed, if I brought about her fate--” 

“It doesn't matter anymore, now, though, does it?  Because you have
brought about her fate, and it is far worse than the other, do you not 
agree?  You've brought about her death.” 

“I was trying to save her!  Do not accuse me of your own crimes!” 

“My own crimes, Paleromo Rucahnda? My own crimes??  Have you not
listened to all our own laws you have broken?  Do you not pay attention 
in our society?!” 

“Your Highness, I am new to this society.” 

“Not new enough!”  The king said firmly.  “You are a betrayer.  You have
let us down.  You shall now die.” 

“I did not choose this life!!”  Paleromo wailed, falling down to his
knees.  “Why must you choose it for me?” 

“I choose to have it this way no more.  You shall be freed from this
life, have to abide by our rules no longer!” 

“Not in the way that I want!  I want not to be a monster!” 

“Too late,”  said the king, and stood up, drawing his sword. 

Paleromo reached for his own blade hilt, but found it missing.  That's
right, he thought bitterly.  The guards confiscated it from me.  Of 
course. 

“You can't fight me, Paleromo Rucahnda,” King Garasonah said, shaking
his head.  “Even if you had your sword.  Besides, what good would come 
of killing me?” 

“A whole lot more good than you would get from killing me,”  Paleromo
said firmly. 

“I'm sorry you feel that way.”  The king stepped closer.  “You should be
thankful that I am not giving you a worse fate.” 

“The fate you have already given me is worse enough,”  Paleromo shot
back.  “Just let me say this.  If you plan to ruin the world, why not 
give the humans a chance to save it?” 

“They don't deserve a chance,” King Garasonah said, and slashed his
blade through Paleromo Rucahnda's heart. 

THE BEGINNING 

Stephanie Black sighed as she combed her fingers through her golden
brown hair.  Her hazel eyes stared ahead emotionlessly as the crowd at 
the train station bustled around her.  “Excuse me, Miss,” a young man 
said, smiling shyly.  “May I sit and wait by you?” 

“Of course,” Stephanie replied, taking a cigarette out of her bag and
twirling it around in her fingers.  She placed it carefully between her 
ruby lips and dug in her purse for a lighter.  Not finding one, she 
sighed in frustration and closed the bag. 

“I have a lighter, if you would like,” the young man suggested. “No
thank you,” Stephanie said, pulling the cigarette sharply out of her 
mouth and dropping it on the ground.  “I'm fine.”  She stood up.  “It 
was nice to meet you, but I have to go.” 

A look of surprise and disappointment flitted across the young man's
face, but he quickly concealed them.  “Nice to meet you too,” he 
replied, and watched as she pushed her way through the crowd away from 
him. 

. 

Stephanie shoved her way through the crowd, completely unsure of where
she was going.  Maybe back home, she supposed.  But now that Isabelle 
was gone, the house was just full of memories.... 

Stephanie stopped moving and put her back against the wall as a recent
memory - the last memory she had of Isabelle - enveloped her. 

...Isabelle's eyes searched around frantically, her breathing hard. 
“Stephanie,” she said, her voice trying to hold off panic, “Stephanie, 
I need to tell you something.” 

I looked at her, frightened.  “What's wrong?”  I asked, running to her
side. 

“It's...It's Pal.” 

“What's wrong with Pal?” 

“I'm sorry, I don't have much time to explain.  You know how Pal is
always gone...always on business trips of some sort....Well, they're 
not really business trips.” 

“He's a drug dealer!”  I exclaimed.  I couldn't help myself, but I felt
a little excited.  I'd always wanted a little drama in my life, I'd 
always wanted to be, in a way, the heroine of my own life story. 

“No,” Isabelle said, sighing.  She'd never had much patience for my rash
ways, how I always seemed to jump to conclusions.  “It's kind of...hard 
to explain.” 

“Explain away,” I replied, waiting impatiently. 

“Well,” Isabelle said, “I saw him yesterday.” 

“I thought he was in Alaska!” 

“So did I.  Apparently, though, he was still in New York City.” 

“He was here, all along?  He's cheated on you, hasn't he!” 

“Could you please keep your conclusions to yourself?  No, he has not
cheated on me!  But he - and I - are in grave danger as we speak.  He 
shouldn't have told me his secret...now he has to face the 
consequences.  He can't hide anything from them.” 

“What are you talking about?”  I asked. 

“Okay.”  Isabelle took a deep breath.  “But you have to promise not to
tell anyone - not a soul! - about what I am about to reveal to you, 
okay?” 

“I promise,”  I said.  “Isabelle, don't you trust me?  We've been best
friends for how long!” 

“I know,”  Isabelle replied, “but we've never shared anything as
important as this.” 

“Just tell me!” 

“Pal is a monster.  There's no name for them...they're a kind of...what
would you call it...cross breed.  It's not his fault - they changed him 
about four months ago.  He told me to warn me - he didn't want me hurt. 
 He's supposed to keep it a secret, he says it's against their laws to 
tell.  It's just like a myth, Stephanie!  Only this time it's real!  I 
can't stay here much longer, I have to flee.  They'll find out he's 
told me, they have to.  He sacrificed himself for me, for my safety.  
So I can still stay human.  But I have to go far away.  Some place 
where they don't dwell.  I was thinking...Hawaii, or something.  I've 
always wanted to go to Hawaii.”  Tears had formed in her eyes and 
threatened to spill out. 

My mouth was open, gaping at her.  I couldn't say a word. 

“He said goodbye to me already.  Headed back to their city.  He wouldn't
tell me where it was, he just told me it was hard to find.  He said I 
couldn't go looking for it.  He'd already be gone.”  A sob escaped her 
throat and she buried her face in her arms. 

“Isabelle....”  I said.  I watched her body shake from sobs and moved
forward to comfort her, my head filled with a static feeling. 

“No!”  She cried suddenly, sitting bolt upright.  “Not already!” 

My head whipped around to stare at her, her eyes filled with disbelief
and terror.  “They've come for me!  Please, Stephanie, run!  Run and 
don't tell a soul of anything that you've heard!” 

“How do you know they're here?”  I asked, panic settling in me as well. 

“Shhh,” she said.  “Look.”  She pointed in the darkness. 

My eyes followed the direction her fingers were pointing and there I saw
it.  Glowing orangey red eyes, staring at Isabelle.  Walking slowly 
toward her.  “They know,” she whisper-sobbed.  “They know I can't run.  
But you can, Stephanie.  Run!  Run now!” 

I reached down to kiss her cheek, breathing in her familiar scent one
last time.  “I'm sorry it has to end like this, Isabelle,”  I said, and 
ran as fast as I could away from the glowing eyes.... 

Coming back to the present, Stephanie felt tears running down her
cheeks.  A couple people passing gave her strange looks, but most just 
ignored her existence.  “Excuse me,” she said, walking up to a person 
who had stopped to look at a souvenir rack.  “Do you know where the 
restrooms are?” 

“Yes,” the person said, pointing to her left.  “They're right over
there.” 

“Thank you,”  Stephanie said gratefully.  She turned and weaved her way
over to the restrooms, her vision blurry from tears. 

When at last inside, she locked herself in a stall and cried.  For how
long, she was unsure of, all she knew was her misery.  
Isabelle...gone....After all those years she had known her...after all 
this time of being her friend.  And dead of what, murder?  From a 
monster?  Stephanie had never much liked Pal, but after this she hated 
him.  Who cares if there were monsters lurking around New York City?  
At least they weren't bothering anyone!  Stephanie had never thought 
she'd think this about anything, but at the moment she was thinking, 
ignorance is bliss. 

Stepping outside the stall again, she looked in the mirror.  Her eyes
were puffy and bloodshot, and her eye make-up had dripped down her 
face.  She stared at herself for a while, then started laughing at her 
distraught expression.  A couple people near her started as she burst 
out laughing, and a few of them inched a ways further away from her.  
Stephanie didn't even care if they thought she was crazy.  She was 
crazy.  Locking herself in a bathroom stall brooding about monsters.  
She laughed louder, holding her stomach and swaying back and forth 
until everyone had left the bathroom.  Soon she'd run out of breath and 
pulled air back into her lungs with a huge gasp, and she didn't find it 
funny anymore. 

Stephanie splashed her face with water and sighed.  She examined her
eyes.  Terribly bloodshot.  Maybe she'd just hide in the bathroom until 
they returned to normal.  She decided to re-do her make-up as she was 
waiting.  She cleared her throat and started humming, a habit she'd 
picked up from Isabelle but only tended to do when alone.  Soon, 
though, humming gave way to singing, and she made up a tune and words 
and danced around the empty bathroom.  “See there was a monster, he 
came to me....”  She was on her knees using her mascara as a microphone 
when a voice cleared behind her.  Instantly Stephanie froze.  She 
caught her expression in the mirror: a shocked face with red eyes and 
half finished make-up, holding up a bottle of mascara.  This was 
humiliating.  She'd never done anything like this before even in the 
safety of her own home!  And here she was, in a public bathroom, 
caught.  She felt like she had a neon sign blazing across her forehead 
saying “PSYCHOPATH”. 

Turning around hesitantly, Stephanie looked at her new visitor.  It was
an old lady, staring at her without humor, her wrinkled face looking 
into her eyes solemnly.  She held a cane with her gnarled fingers, her 
greasy hair stringy and short around her aged face.  Her eyes were 
surprisingly large and alert compared to the rest of her sunken self.  
Her mouth was open in a slight O.  “So.”  She said.  Her voice was 
cracked and echoed in the empty bathroom.  Her eyes darted around for a 
moment more and she stepped forward again, leaning on her cane.  “My 
name is Esmerelda Pucolff.  I think we need to speak.” 

“I normally do not engage in conversation with odd strangers,” 
Stephanie replied, not normally one for rudeness but still flustered 
from what the old woman had seen. 

“I do not, at this very moment, care,”  the woman snapped.  “Now follow
me.” 

Intrigued in spite of herself, Stephanie followed the old woman out of
the bathroom.  “Where are we going?”  She asked, hurrying to keep up 
with her surprisingly quick pace. 

Esmerelda ignored her question and walked still faster, using her cane
less and less.  Stephanie found herself beginning to get suspicious.  
“What are you planning to do with me?” “Talk.” 

“Talk?”  Stephanie repeated.  “Why must we walk all this way just to
talk?” 

“We cannot risk being overheard.” 

“You don't even know me.” 

“I heard more of your song than you know.” 

Stephanie was jogging alongside her now, feeling slightly fearful of
this mysterious old woman.  “What does my song have to do with 
anything?” 

“Your song has to do with everything.” 

Stephanie left it at that for the moment as they continued on their
journey. 

At last they turned into an old alleyway, which was dark and deserted. 
They walked a ways into it, at last stopping by a few cardboard boxes.  
Esmerelda sat down on one, letting her cane rest by her feet.  “Your 
name, Child,” she requested. 

“Stephanie,” Stephanie replied.  She didn't know why she felt she had to
be truthful with this woman, felt like she'd be able to know if she 
lied.  “Stephanie Black.” 

“Stephanie,” the woman breathed.  She fell into a fit of coughing.  When
the coughing ceased, Esmerelda sat up straight again and cleared her 
throat.  As she spoke her breath made twists of smoke spiral about 
around her.  “What monsters do you speak about in your song?” 

Glancing around, Stephanie answered, “What do you care about the
monsters I speak of in my improvisational singing?” 

“It probably means more to me than you know....Mixed breed, they are,
yes?  Possibly...changed without their permission, something they have 
to keep secret from their loved ones?” 

Stephanie stared at Esmerelda in alarm.  “How much do you know??”  She
asked, her voice panicky.  “Who are you?” 

“As I said, my name is Esmerelda Pucolff.  That's all you need know at
this current moment, but I assure you more education will come to you 
in time.  That is, if you want to go with my side.” 

“What do you mean, your side?”  asked Stephanie.  If she wasn't so
confused and unsure of what was going on, she'd be annoyed at how much 
they were bickering back and forth without actually getting anywhere.  
“There are sides?” 

Mist started to whoosh along with the light breeze, chilling Stephanie
and making her hug her knees to her chest. 

Esmerelda looked to the wind, and breathed in deeply.  “Stephanie Black,
the answers will come to all you ask.  Just not here.  Not now.  If you 
wish to know what you're up against, meet me here in one week at 
midnight.  Right here, this very cardboard box.  If you wish to forget, 
to continue living in ignorance, then please, stay away.  Choose.  You 
have one week.”  And she picked up her cane and walked off into the 
darkness. 

Stephanie sat, surprised at Esmerelda's quick departure.  She didn't
know exactly where she was right now, anyways.  She supposed she could 
figure it out....Pulling her coat tighter around her, she backtracked 
toward the end of the alley.  She was on an empty street, called “Fork 
Street”.  She'd never heard of it ever in her life.  Walking slowly, 
Stephanie made sure to make note of her surroundings.  Old gnarled 
tree, broken down dance studio.  Crack in the pavement.  Closed book 
store titled “Spell books”.  This whole place was giving her the 
creeps.  Since when in New York City was there an abandoned town?  Why 
was she not running into any homeless people, any new stores or houses? 
 She walked faster, lost in thought, and when she looked up again she 
was in the train station. 

She looked behind her, her heart thudding.  The road was filled with
honking cars and people waiting to cross the street.  She hadn't just 
passed that.  She'd just been in an empty town, with no noise, no 
people....Confused, Stephanie walked back into the station.  This was 
the same station she'd been in before.  There was the same bench.  The 
young man who'd offered her a lighter was gone, though.  Shaking, 
Stephanie sat back down on the bench and waited.  Maybe he'd come 
again.  Maybe this had all just been a dream and really that hadn't 
happened yet.  He didn't come and Stephanie laughed nervously, feeling 
stupid.  Of course he wasn't going to come.  How idiotic could she get? 
 Standing up once more, Stephanie decided she'd better go back to her 
house.  There was nowhere else to go, after all, and she figured she'd 
been away long enough.  So she began the journey back to her place. 

... 

For the next few days, Stephanie tried her hardest to forget her
encounter with the strange old woman.  She tried to concentrate on her 
work at the cash register, but found she kept miscounting easy things 
and spacing out, and she was quickly fired.  Now Stephanie sat in her 
empty apartment, ignoring the TV, which was playing some commercial for 
teeth whiteners.  She was staring out the window dejectedly when she 
thought she saw something crawling up the lone tree outside.  
Immediately she was at her feet, and leapt over to the edge of the 
window, peering out.  Nothing was there.  Stephanie sighed.  She 
couldn't continue living this way: unemployed, eating junk food and 
watching TV, jumping at the slightest noise.  She looked in the mirror. 
 Her normally beautifully kept hair was messy and splayed about, and 
her face was free of make-up.  Her eyes lacked her normal shine and had 
a slight hint of bagginess underneath them.  She hadn't shaved her legs 
in days.  She felt dirty and ugly. 

Stephanie slid out of her nightgown, and stepped into the shower.  As
the warm water pattered against her skin, she thought of when she was 
little, and she used to play all these pretend games, most involving 
monsters. 

...“BAM!” I cried, holding out my imaginary gun.  “You're dead, evil
monster!”  I grinned happily, showing off my missing front teeth. 

Isabelle frowned.  “But I'm not an evil monster,”  she disagreed,
pouting.  “I was saving the world with my special powers.” 

“Nu uh!”  I said.  “You're a liar, evil monster!  I heard your plans in
the bathroom last night!” 

Isabelle giggled.  “If I'm an evil monster why do I have a bathroom?” 

“Oh.”  I paused for a minute, stumped.  Then I smiled and said, “I heard
your plans in the trash can last night!” 

“Oh no!  I've been caught!  Help me somebody, she knows I'm an evil
monster!” 

I danced around her.  “Police, police!  Come arrest Izzy!  She's done
evilish things and has to be caged up!  Without any food or anything!” 

Isabelle pouted again.  “I want some ice cream, Stephhie.  Please?” 

“Ooh, I want ice cream too!”   Then I yelled, “MOMMY, ME AND IZZY WANT
ICE CREAM!”... 

But back then, those were just innocent monster games.  There were a few
times in later life when they recalled those games and laughed about 
them, although they were mostly behind them.  Stephanie remembered 
later on, when they no longer believed in monsters, and Isabelle first 
met Pal. 

...“Wow, Steph, you should've seen him.  He is so gorgeous.  I have to
get this boy if it's the last thing I do!” 

I wrinkled my nose at her.  “He doesn't sound all that wonderful to me,”
 I said.  “Sure, he sounds sweet and all, but so inexperienced.  What 
if when he tries to kiss you, he misses?” 

Isabelle rolled her eyes at me.  “Come on Steph, you're worried about
whether or not he'll make it to my lips on the first kiss?  I'd be more 
worried about whether this guy is an axe murderer, I mean come on!  Who 
cares if he's not experienced?  That kind of adds to his charm to me.  
I mean, that proves he's not a man whore, you know?” 

“Yeah, I guess,”  I agreed.  “Now I gotta go meet Josh.  He said he'd be
here in about one minute from now.” 

Isabelle shook her head at me.  “If either of us should be worried about
anyone, it should be you about Josh.  Did you hear that rumor about him 
getting Jessica pregnant?  You don't want that, do you?” 

“Of course I don't, Isabelle.  But he wouldn't do that to me.  Besides,
we're just going to a concert.  Talk to you later!”  I kissed her on 
the cheek.  “Love ya!”... 

Of course Isabelle had been right.  She'd always been right about
everything.  Stephanie sighed and rubbed shampoo into her hair, 
breathing in the scent.  She'd always been adventurous, so why did she 
now feel like she shouldn't meet that old woman?  She was just an old 
woman, it's not like she could hurt Stephanie.  She pursed her lips.  
She was curious about what Esmerelda had to tell her.  She was 
interested in knowing how they'd gotten to that unoccupied place.  She 
did want to know how someone else knew of the monsters, and what her 
relations were with them.  And she wondered what Esmerelda meant about 
different “sides”. 

But on the other hand, the old woman could be dangerous.  She could be a
druggie.  She could work for the monsters themselves and be on a 
mission to kill Stephanie.  But if that was the case, why didn't she 
kill her when she had the change by the boxes?  Maybe she was supposed 
to lure her to someone more dangerous.  But again, why didn't she do 
that then? 

With a jolt, Stephanie realized it had been a week since that incident. 
She shaved her legs, something she usually enjoyed doing, but something 
that her mind wasn't on at this moment.  In that case it wasn't 
surprising when the razor slipped and cut her skin.  “Ouch,”  Stephanie 
said, and watched the bead of blood hover at the opening of the cut, 
then slip down her leg quickly.  She held her leg under the stream of 
water, watching the blood wash away. 

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped her towel around herself.  She
padded out to where the TV was still on, now playing Gossip Girl.  
Glancing at the clock, she was it was 7 p.m.  Five hours to go. 

Looking around, she saw how much of a slob she'd been these past days. 
“Jeez,” she muttered.  Candy wrappers and soda cans were spread out 
everywhere.  She pulled out a trash bag and shoved everything in it.  
Then she felt a little silly, doing housework in a towel. 

Opening her closet, she surveyed her clothes.  What should she wear for
her date tonight with the scary old lady?  Shaking her head, she 
glanced at the TV as Serena van der Woodsen walked into the camera's 
view.  She used to read those books.  Her thoughts returning to her 
closet, she thought, “should I wear a dress or pants?”  She decided 
she'd wear jeans, but a slightly flirty top to boost her self esteem of 
the past few days.  She even wore a push up bra, but knew she should 
wear sneakers if she was going back to that abandoned place. 

With a little shiver, she pulled her black coat around her.  An annoying
workout commercial came on and Stephanie shut off the TV, instantly 
shocked at the quiet that came as soon as she pressed the power button. 
 She looked at the clock again: half an hour had passed.  Her stomach 
rumbled and reminded her that she hadn't eaten in a while.  Searching 
through her apartment proved unsatisfactory - only potato chips, frozen 
pizza, and a pack of soda remained. 

Pulling her hair up into a bun, Stephanie walked to where she kept her
make-up.  She felt better when she'd applied all she needed to, and 
grinned into the mirror.  Now she felt like herself again.  Well, a 
hungry, slightly more paranoid version of herself, anyway. 

She ended up eating at a Mexican place she'd never been to.  It felt a
lot healthier than her diet had been recently, and left her feeling 
refreshed. 

Back at her apartment again, Stephanie paced back and forth.  It was
9:00.  She had three hours before she was supposed to meet the old 
lady.  Did she really want to meet her?  Looking around the silent 
room, she'd made up her mind.  There was no way she couldn't meet 
Esmerelda, or her entire life she'd wonder what she'd missed.  Last 
time, it took half an hour to walk from the train station to the 
apartment.  She should probably leave time for her to find her way 
back...maybe 30 minutes to an hour.  She had no clue how long it would 
take her to find it.  Stephanie decided she'd leave at 10:00. 

*** 

She peered down the alleyway, seeing no one.  Yet there were the
cardboard boxes she'd conversed with the old lady by last week.  
Stepping over a rat carcass, Stephanie walked into the narrow walkway.  
She turned toward the pile of boxes, and gasped.  Sitting there was a 
girl. 

This girl seemed to be slightly younger than Stephanie, in her late
teens.  She had beautiful black hair that cascaded down her shoulders, 
her skin slightly tan.  She seemed unaware of the cold night, and was 
reading a novel by the flickering light on the wall behind her.  She 
wore flip-flops and Capri's, her legs crossed nonchalantly.  She was 
wearing a tee shirt that said “Kiss me, I'm Irish” on it. 

“I'm glad you've arrived at last, Stephanie Black,”  The girl said to
her without lifting her head from the book.  She appeared to finish the 
sentence, and then closed it.  The book was old and its cover was torn, 
so it was impossible to tell what she was reading.  She looked up at 
Stephanie at last, her plump lips curved upward in something resembling 
a smile.  As Stephanie looked into her eyes she got a shock, startled 
by their piercing green-ness. 

“I...How do you know my name?”  Stephanie said, unsure what to think of
this mysterious girl.  “Where's Esmerelda Pucolff?” 

The girl's eyes seemed to sparkle as she shook her head.  “She's dead,”
she said in a harsh voice.  “My name is Gabriella Pucolff, I'm her 
daughter.  You can call me Gabby.” 

“Oh my God,”  said Stephanie, “I'm sorry.  What happened?” 

Gabby sighed sadly and uncrossed her legs, her hair rippling over the
right side of her face.  “They got to her,” she said simply.  “We knew 
it would happen sometime.  We just didn't expect it this soon.” 

“Who's they?”  Stephanie asked, hoping she wasn't being too forthright. 
“I mean, I don't want to butt in or anything....” 

“No, no, it's fine,”  Gabby reassured her.  “Any of her business is
business of yours.” 

“Uh, why, may I ask?”  Stephanie didn't know what to think.  All her
life in such a short time was being questioned, all the things that she 
had known.  “It's not like I knew her.” 

“Yes, I am aware of that.  But my mother rushed home a week ago to warn
me that they were coming for her sooner than we'd expected.  She told 
me of Stephanie Black, who knew of them as well, even though she was 
new at knowing and probably wouldn't be of that much help, at least not 
at first, but who needed to be trained and taught.  Then she told me to 
meet you here tonight, midnight, and she bid me farewell and died.” 

“Wait...she committed suicide?” 

“No!”  Gabby shouted.  Then she sighed, and looked down at her French
manicured fingernails.  “I'm sorry,” she apologized, “I didn't mean to 
burst out at you like that.” 

“It's fine,”  Stephanie assured her. “It was a rude question.” 

“No...”  Gabby said.  “She was strange, my mother was.  She's the reason
I'm mixed up in this life at all.”  She shook her head and pulled her 
hair into a ponytail, fastening it with a hair tie from her wrist.  
Then she looked up, her eyes dancing.  “That's right!”  She exclaimed, 
glancing down at Stephanie's outfit.  “You must be cold, are you not?” 

Stephanie nodded, shivering lightly.  “How are you in such clothes?” 
She asked.  “I'd be freezing if I were you!” 

Gabby laughed, with a slight bitterness to it, Stephanie thought.  “Oh,
I'm fine,”  she said.  “But obviously you are not, so let's go.” 

“Where are we going?”  Stephanie inquired. 

“To my house,”  Gabby replied.  “I'm assuming you have nothing better to
do at midnight on a Friday night.” 

“Well, you're correct about that,”  Stephanie admitted. “Right,”  said
Gabby.  “Well then, follow me!”  She picked up a plain brown purse that 
Stephanie hadn't noticed until then and placed the old book in it with 
care.  Then she stood.  She was about an inch shorter than Stephanie.  
Grinning and showing off her beautifully white teeth, Gabby turned to 
Stephanie and suggested, “Perhaps you shall close your eyes....it'll be 
easier that way.” 

Stephanie glanced at her slightly suspiciously, but closed them with an
impatient look from Gabby. “Well,”  Gabby's voice came into Stephanie's 
mind, “You can open them now!” 

“Already?”  Stephanie asked.  She'd had them closed for barely any time
at all. 

“Yes,” replied Gabby firmly. 

Opening her eyes took a bit of work; it felt like something invisible
was pushing against them, keeping them closed.  Then a slight breeze 
fluttered, chilling her neck, and the weight was lifted.  Stephanie's 
eyes flew open. 

Instantly she was shocked, and her mouth dropped.  Speechless, she
looked around, surveying her surroundings.  They were no longer in an 
alleyway, instead in a clearing, with a large green meadow filled with 
flowers.  The stars twinkled above her, and beside her Gabby watched 
her expression, waiting to see her reaction.  In front of her was a two 
story house.  It gave off a slightly aged impression, and it struck 
Stephanie as kind of mysterious.  Yet it invited her in as much as if 
it were a gleaming castle with rubies for door handles.  “Wow,” she 
breathed.  “How did we get here so fast?” 

Gabby smiled, and her eyes glanced away from Stephanie, their eyelashes
swooping, mirroring the house's mysteriousness.  “Things aren't always 
what they seem,” was her simple answer.  Then her eyes flicked up to 
meet Stephanie's gaze, glittering, and she added animatedly, “Come!” 

Their footsteps echoed softly on a tile walkway Stephanie hadn't seen. 
They stepped onto the porch, small with grapevines weaving in and out 
through the boards.  There was a bench swing off to the right, which 
looked out over the meadow.  The door into the house was tall, with an 
oval window looking inside.  Peering through the window, Stephanie saw 
a small pond with doves, and she raised her eyebrows at Gabby.  Gabby 
ignored her and simply pulled the door open. 

Stifling a gasp, Stephanie took in the scene around her.  There was no
pond in sight, nor any doves.  Instead they were in a rather plain 
room.  To the left there was a winding staircase, to the right a 
fireplace and couch.  Directly in front of them lay another door, and 
that wall was filled with framed pictures.  Stepping forward, Stephanie 
examined them.  There was one of Esmerelda Pucolff, just as Stephanie 
had seen her.  She was smiling slightly at the camera through her 
wrinkles.  Next to that picture there was another, this one of a 
younger woman, probably around thirty.  She had jet black hair and high 
cheekbones, and was smiling happily with a sense of pride.  Beside her 
was a man, who looked slightly older than her.  His ice blue eyes 
sparkled and his handsome face held his smile nicely as he showed off 
his baby.  “Is that you?”  Stephanie asked, pointing to the baby.  
Gabby inclined her head with a touch of sadness.  “And...your father?” 

“Yes, that's right,”  Gabby replied. 

Moving onto the next picture, Stephanie saw an older one; now Gabby
looked about six, and she had a lost expression on her face.  
Esmerelda's smile was forced, and she clung to her daughter's hand.  
The father was absent from the picture. 

“Okay, that's enough for now,”  Gabby said.  “I brought you here for a
different reason than to immerse you in my family history.”  She nodded 
toward the fire, crackling invitingly. 

Stephanie moved quickly across the room and sat at the couch, staring
into the quivering flames.  “Ah,” she said contentedly.  “Much better.” 


Gabby smiled at her, and then said, “Right.  Don't disappear anywhere,
I'll be right back.  I'm just off to get some books.” 

“Mm,” Stephanie said in reply, loving the feeling of the warmth on her
closed eyelids.  It was almost as good as a beautiful sunny day, even 
better in its own cozy way. 

Gabby came back in no time at all, lugging a couple huge old books and a
cup of hot chocolate.  “Here you go,” she said, handing the cup to 
Stephanie. 

“Thank you,” Stephanie replied politely, grasping onto the handle and
breathing in the steam.  “What are those?”  She asked, turning her gaze 
over to the ancient-looking books. 

“Books,”  Gabby answered, as though Stephanie couldn't see that for
herself.  She placed them in her lap and opened the first one.  Its 
spine crackled and a small cloud of dust floated up off of it.  “'Many 
legends tell the stories of Evil monsters, or corrupt beings, set out 
to destroy the world and all we hold dear to us,'” she read.  “'Yet 
there are some who defy that stereotype, the rare few who go against 
their nature to promote good in this world.  Although we know that good 
is out there, we must not count on its existence, and presume the being 
is evil until proven otherwise.  There may be tricksters out there, who 
try to lure you in with food and good company, but will drop all the 
pretences when you have been swallowed by their lies.  Do not trust 
these monsters, for they are unpredictable and may defy you most 
entirely.'” 

Stephanie interrupted then.  “What is the importance that I learn this?”


“Well,” Gabby replied to her, “you must learn the backgrounds of some
legends....”  She had a strange look in her eye as she said this, which 
Stephanie couldn't place. 

Suddenly the mug of hot chocolate felt cold in her hands, and she placed
it on the coffee table beside her.  “I...”  Puzzled, she glanced up at 
Gabby again.  Gabby smiled at her innocently, and cleared her throat, 
readying to read again.  “Wait,”  Stephanie intervened.  “So this means 
you could be one of the bad guys?  You're not...are you?” 

Gabby said nothing, but flipped through the book to a further page. 
“'Witches,'” she announced, “'can be both good or bad.  They are 
masters of trickery, however, and may lure you in without much effort 
if you're inexperienced in dealing with magical beings.  Once you're 
held in a witch's home, there is scarce hope that you'll ever be set 
free.'”  Seeing Stephanie's horrified expression, Gabby held up one 
finger and read ahead.  “'Because of the chance of you ever being set 
free is so slight, the witch will likely drop her pretences as soon as 
you enter the door.  A witch who holds on to it longer would just wish 
to bring you into a cage without fight, but with that they wouldn't 
tarry.  Of witches whom have you in their house and are still as kind 
as outside, you have nothing at all to worry from.'” 

Stephanie let out a sigh of relief.  “Wow, you had me so worried,” she
said.  “I don't like this whole new world being presented to me.  
Perhaps it would have been better if I'd stayed in the dark.” 

“Don't think that, Stephanie,”  Gabby said.  “Please don't.  You may be
just the one we need to help thwart the evil acts of the Orange Eyed 
Monsters.  You can help us so much!” 

“I don't see how,”  Stephanie disagreed. 

“I don't either, not yet,”  Gabby answered.  “But my mother's gift as a
witch was telling who among us had magical powers, and you stuck out in 
that train station.  She could sense your gift, but couldn't tell what 
it might be.  And judging from your song, you already knew of the 
monsters that are threatening our peaceful life.” 

“And what's your gift?”  Stephanie asked, curious. 

Gabby grinned, and her eyes shimmered.  “I'm especially good at
illusions to the eye,” she said proudly, then added, “but I'm working 
on other things, such as what I did just now, with making your cup 
cold.”  She paused, and knitted her eyebrows together, then her face 
cleared and she said, “Pick it up again now.” 

Stephanie picked up her hot chocolate again, and the cup was indeed warm
as it should be, and heated up her hands.  “Good job,” she praised.  
Then she paused, and asked a question that had been ever so slightly 
haunting her for a time.  “But why didn't your mother just bring me 
here when I first met with her?  I could've begun my training, or 
whatever, since then, and yet I had to go home and sit around, lose my 
job and my status in my community, before I began.  Why?” 

“There are numerous reasons,”  Gabby replied.  “The first and most
obvious, because I stated it not long ago, was that my mother came home 
to me and told me she was going to die.  She sensed the spirits waiting 
to pick her up, and she didn't want to introduce them to you in the 
time being.  Another was that, if you decided to come to our side, your 
friends, family, or coworkers would be wondering where you were, send 
search parties and we'd have to continually be on the run.  Also if you 
went the first night, it might just be an act of curiosity, whereas if 
we waited a whole week you were likely to forget or figure it was just 
a crazy old lady meaning to frighten you....This way we've 
inadvertently saved your life, saved ourselves from being tracked, and 
found out that you're serious, or at least seriously curious, of what 
we have to tell you.”


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