No matter who you are, where you live, and how many people are chasing you, what you don't read is often as important as what you do read. For instance, if you are walking in the mountains and don't read the sign that says "Beware of Cliff" because you are busy reading a joke book instead, you may suddenly find yourself walking on air rather than on a sturdy bed of rocks. If you are baking a pie for your friends, and you read an article entitled "How to Build a Chair" instead of a cookbook, your pie will probably end up tasting like wood and nails instead of like crust and fruity filling. And if you insist on reading this book instead of something more cheerful, you will most certainly find yourself moaning in despair instead of wriggling in delight, so if you have any sense at all you will put this book down and pick up another one. I know of a book, for instance, called The Littlest Elf, which tells the story of a teensy-weensy little man who scurries around Fairyland having all sorts of adorable adventures, and you can see at once that you should probably read The Littlest Elf and wriggle over the lovely things that happened to this imaginary creature in a made-up place, instead of reading this book and moaning over the terrible things that happened to the three Baudelaire orphans in the village where I am now typing these very words with my partner, Emily Alexander. As Emily is typing what happened to Nadia, I wish you all to leave this digital book and read something more cheerful. But as always you won't.
Nadia quickly climbed up the trapdoor, revealing the familiar smell of her home. She quickly got up not seeing anyone. She breathed a sigh of relief, as she thought she got away with her rebellious rule-breaking.
"Do you need help?" A cold voice drawled. Nadia's eyes met with her father's. He was wearing a dark brown suit with a light brown tie and brown pants. He sat relaxed on a chair, yet his posture screamed stiff. Nadia nervously gulped.
"Dad-" Her father raised his hands signalling not to talk.
"I have been very lenient haven't I?" Her father asked coldly, "I-" What her father wanted to say Nadia wouldn't know because at that same moment Grace entered wearing a brown dress which matched with her father's suit.
"Honey," Grace soothed. "Nadia just wanted to help her friends." Grace turned to Nadia. "It's because of her that the Baudelaires managed to save themselves from Count Olaf."
"How do you know that?" Her father argued. "And it doesn't matter, she went against my rules."
"You never specified not to go," Grace shook her head. "I was listening."
Her father's face flushed. "I-well-it doesn't matter-she have snuck out."
"Wouldn't you have done the same? For your friends?" Grace questioned. She turned to Nadia again. "You go and get refreshed while I," Her eyes flickered back to her father. "have a good chat with your father." Nadia nodded hurriedly and quickly went to the bathroom to take a nice hot shower.
The evening was beautiful with the different hues of pink, red and orange mixing like paint on a canvas. The sun was glowing in its glory and one couldn't deny how blissful and beautiful the sunset was. Nadia's heart was swarmed with worry again. Were the Baudelaires okay? She seemed to be asking herself that question a lot. Nadia flicked her wet hair behind her ear, she had just gotten out of the shower to look at the sunset on the balcony.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice asked her. It was Grace. Nadia hummed in agreement.
"You are thinking about the Baudelaires aren't you?" Grace asked softly. Looking at Nadia's dumbfounded face, she chuckled a bit.
"Here," The blonde placed a glass of juice in her hands. "I won't say you did something wrong nor right, however, I will say that your father is hurt." Grace's eyes softened considerably looking right into Nadia's brown eyes.
The brunette's eyes flickered back and forth between the juice and Grace. Plucking up the courage, she shakily took the juice and after a reassuring smile from Grace made her way to her father's office in the east wing.
The walk to her father's office seemed to take an eternity yet it also seemed like it took no time at all to get there. The tapping of her own shoes could be heard in the otherwise dead silent atmosphere. She knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again. No answer. The suspense was killing her. As she went to knock on the door again, it opened with a creak.
Silently tiptoeing inside the room, Nadia placed the juice on the wooden table. She looked around, there was a shelf of books right behind the table. As she approached the library with awe she scanned the book names.
Nancy Drew, Sherlock homes, were the few titles of the hundreds of books on all the shelves. Very Flammable deaths was a title that seemed a bit dark, but then she came to a realisation while like father didn't tell her all about the secret organisation one thing he did tell her was if any letters initials were made VFD, it was a code. Scanning her surrounding's, she bit her lip in anticipation, should she see it? Or should she not?
Plucking up the remainder of her courage ( which wasn't very much, mind you) she tried to pull the book. The book only slides out halfway before it got stuck. The brunette furrowed her eyebrows perplexed. How was the book stuck in midair? Suddenly her ears picked up the sound of something slowing sliding. The book also seemed to be going away from her. Now that she noticed the whole bookshelf was. She stepped back in slightly alarmed. To her complete surprise and astonishment, she could see a secret entryway. The lighting inside looked especially dim. She slowly stepped inside, carefully peering all around the creepy little room. There were many photos hung up on the wall. She narrowed her eyes in disbelief when she noticed pictures of the Baudelares, Quagmires and even their parents. The room was filled with photos of hundreds of children and presumably their parents.
There were also wooden drawers with labels. Nadia didn't even bother reading the other labels, her eyes were stuck on one specific one labelled Baudelaires. She slowly pulled the drawer feeling the smooth wood. There was a picture of the Baudelaire parents at the top with all their data. Like their birthdays, and even their deaths. Shakily moving forward she picked up a paper with Violet's picture. It was all the same. All of their data was written on it. Why would her father have this?
As she was about the close the drawer and go, so she wouldn't get caught by her father, she noticed a piece of paper saying, Guardians. Her curiosity was peaked, and she picked up the paper. There were a lot of names on the paper. A lot of it was also corrected. The first name was cut out.
D̶r̶ ̶M̶o̶n̶t̶o̶g̶o̶m̶e̶r̶y̶ was cut out and replaced by Count Olaf. As she read through the list of names she realized that all of the Baudelaires Guardians names were written and who could be their future Guardians. As she read Esme Squalor, the writing seemed more fresh, like it was written only in the last 24 hours.
The next name was The Village of Fowl Devotees. just then her father entered panting slightly, it seemed like he had been running. Looking wide-eyed at Nadia before him, he panted slightly and said.
"Nadia, I can explain."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
