Vada has a stupid nickname for me now. I swear I will never repeat this aloud, but she's not as annoying as I let on.
There's always a little voice inside my head that I can't seem to get rid of. Its almost like it's got a personality of it's own. The voice is twittery and high-pitched, almost like a bird. When I was younger, I treated it like a friend, but, I grew out of that phase rather quickly. I thought it was my conscious but I'm sure your conscious wouldn't make fun of you like my little voice does. For instance, when Vada called me "Sparky", it said "ooooooo, someone's got a crrrrrruuush" in an extremely mocking tone. I wonder if everyone's got these little voices or I've gone barking mad.
"Come on!" Vada calls at me as she dashes into a little alleyway off the square lined with rubbish cans. Her honey-brown locks seem to wave goodbye to me as she goes. I sigh and, yet again, follow Vada reluctantly.
After awhile, she ascends a little stoop housing a dark green door with peeling paint and deep grooves that I realize are actually symbols. Vada traces the symbols with her fingertips, and they light up in an emerald green color. I hear the clicking of many locks unlatching. The door swings open, revealing a dim, dingy hallway, that was probably once very impressive. The high ceiling revealed a beautiful mural with so much cracking and peeling paint that the painting itself is hard to make out. A fallen crystal chandelier lies on it's side on the dusty floor by a wooden side table, covered in rotting doilies and a single, wilted flower in a vase. Dust notes dance in the fading light provided by a small stained-glass window above the door. "Diablo!". I jump and realize its only Vada. A cry of surprise, followed by the noise of pots and pans crashing to the floor comes from a room just off to the left of the hallway follows Vada's shout.
A tall figure stumbles out of the doorway, steadies itself and says; "I've got... uh... I'm armed!".
"Dia! Its just Vada!" Vada says excitedly, flinging herself at the figure. "Gods, Its so dark in here!" She flicks her hand and gaslights along the walls that I hadn't noticed before illuminate themselves.
"Diablo" Grinned and flicked their tongue at me. "And who's this?" They ask.
WOOOOOOOO!!!!! I'm back!
YOU ARE READING
Lost Things
Adventure{DISCONTINUED} Ignatius Cook is completely normal. He lives in a normal house, in a normal town, with a normal family. Until a stranger trespasses in his garden. I ended up hating this story so I'm not going to finish it. I may rewrite it soon.
