Don't Judge a book by It's Cover ( A Storm and Silence Fanfic )

Don't Judge a Book by It's Cover

Disclaimer: The characters and setting of this fanfiction are all owned by Rob Thier. I simply wrote a fanfic based on his "Storm and Silence" which I hope you would enjoy. ANDDDD if by some luck you do end up liking, do vote and comment. ILY <3

Warning: This fanfiction contains spoilers so it's best that you read the original story first ofc.

I hope you would all be kind enough to read this weird oneshot written by this amateur kid who has no idea about writing a story (this one's her first). And also it would be really nice if you could just forgive grammatical, historical n other errors. English isn't my first language so I'm not really good at English let alone literature. Any suggestion on how I can improve and pointing out my mistakes are always welcome. I would also like to thank infernero666 for proofreading. *grin*

Again it's my first time writing a fanfiction and I have and will try my best. So please support me. :)

Copyright © 2016 Yashna Haque. All Rights reserved

No Part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted i any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of Yashna Haque.

Books, as they say, are the best companions one can have. Not that I don't have companions, but no matter what kind of creatures they are, they can never replace books. For it is the one and only love of my life. Seeing my very beloved younger sister (this is not sarcasm by the way), has made me understand how important a man is in life (and this was definitely sarcasm). Because my sister is probably one of the most romantic human beings on earth who can even turn fences, wind, wood planks, windows and as well as gardens which has the symbol of love- flowers in it, into obstacles of her love life. So can our neighbor. Who was better? I don't know.

As my hand was making its way to a Jules Verne book to turn a page, the door suddenly opened with a squeak which is too noticeable as this squeaky sound is probably another form of my aunt's voice who speaks in the quietest (you can guess) possible way to me just like a lady. And if you haven't understood the sarcasm, I shall tell you, that the squeak could beat my aunt's voice if the door had been just a bit older. Let a year or two pass and the door will definitely make me proud.

I jumped from my bed expecting my aunt with a death glare and lots of lecturing on the duties of a proper lady for I was more like a malady than a lady in this world full of prim and proper ladies. If only she knew what I had been doing behind her back. Instead of becoming the epitome of a lady, I became a living breathing lad who hid her female features quite well under her uncle's old clothes and worked even better than a man. The men of this world should learn from me. But here in this chauvinistic world it was impossible even in imagination. To my utter surprise, I saw none but my companions, living ones I mean, and my lovely younger sister, Ella of course. Patsy and Flora were standing right in front of me and I kept the book aside.

Then entered my aunt who looked at me with the coldest of expressions. Wait, maybe not the coldest. It's probably called being expressionless hiding plenty of horror and irritation. Much to her dismay she asked if they would like refreshments (the refreshments being a bowl of tasteless soup which works like magic if you want to kill someone) and much to mine, my friends denied politely gratifying my aunt and she left with relief washing over her face which was pretty evident from her facial expressions at the moment. But then again my friends would've died right after having a spoon of that soup. The only reason me and my sisters have survived is probably because we've developed some sort of an immunity system to survive this poison like liquid and as for my uncle, well, he's probably had to intake worse things than this. He was married to a woman like my aunt now, wasn't he!