The Great Woe | Wenclair

Trees

The green leaves on trees slowly faded away, as the black car belonging to the Addams family passed their gates, and turned into dead ones. Wednesday looked out of the window, admiring the sight she had in front of her eyes.

Just seconds later, Lurch parked the car very precisely in front of the staircase and got out to open the door for Wednesday. The girl quickly put a black book back inside the bag, and closed it, as soon as Lurch opened the door.

"Oh, my little beauty!" Her father, Gomez, exclaimed, walking down the staircase and towards the car, as Wednesday got out.

"Is it a pleasure to meet you too, father," Wednesday said, looking him dead in the eyes, reminding him not to give her a welcome hug. Suddenly, she saw in the corner of her eye her mother, slowly walking down the stairs.

"Oh Wednesday, welcome back home." Morticia greeted her, taking her place next to Gomez. "Lurch, please take Wednesday's things to her room."

The silent slave nodded, and opened the car's trunk, slowly taking out things one by one. Wednesday grew tired of them, so she turned around and made her way toward the forest that was still on their property.

She knew that there should be a place to rest in silence, as she have cleared a good chunk of the forest last summer with a flamethrower. Thing crawled out of her bag, and onto her shoulder.

"Thing, you don't have to stay with me now, this is our home," Wednesday said, still walking through the woods.

Thing moved his fingers, signing something, but Wednesday didn't look at him. She finally after some time came into the cleared-out space, already noticing the small couch she brought in from the attic, and a lamp running off the pure electricity she cut into by herself. Who would've said no to free energy?

She placed her bag down next to the couch and sat down. This was a better place than to spend time with her parents, explaining every bit of information about the situation that took place two days ago.

Wednesday sighed, unbuttoning the shirt she wore, and lifted it slightly, revealing a giant, very sore scar. That was the place where Crackstone penetrated her skin with a dagger. Even though Goody saved her from dying, and the scar vanished at the same moment, it appeared yesterday.

It wasn't bleeding, it wasn't even bandaged up or sewn together. Paramedics would check it if Wednesday hadn't threatened them with bandaging their heads together. And besides anything, the pain the scar brought when touched was nothing but a calming experience.

She buttoned up the shirt again, and reached for her bag, grabbing the black book out of it. It wasn't just a book, it was a diary, her diary. She hasn't looked into it since the first day she came in Nevermore. It was basically empty since she bought it just at the start of the school year.

Opening it to the last written page, she re-read what was on there.

Traveling home is my most, but also my least favorite activity.
It always brings back memories I spent in this car as a child; watching my parents get more affectionate to each other, and since Pugsley was a baby (he still is.), I was between my parents.
But when this travel ends, I will be greeted by my parents, and probably won't get rest from them at no cost.

I sometimes wonder what are the others doing. To be clear, I have zero interest in their lives, but I know that some do remain in school on holidays. But now, since half of that building is destroyed, they went home.

Turning the page, she immediately came up with one more entry to write today.

Getting used to this thing called a smartphone won't be hard as I thought. The stalker that had the audacity to message me is now blocked, so that's taken care of.
Xavier very thoughtfully put his number in, but I found a way to submit it to this site called google, in which it's listed as a "free paint job guy".
But I should've at least asked Eugene for his number, he is sometimes bearable to talk.