Rose Red - Sandwiches, Paint and Werewolves

Chapter 3 ~ On the subject of paint.

Hi guys. Yeth, i know thith ith thort of thtupid, but I have a cold, witch ith why I thound like suthch a retard. Thith tort of expandth her relationship with her thithter and thtuff, tho itth kind of a filler. By the way, at the end, if anyone realitheth what the thing outhide her window ith bathed on, they get a COOKIE!

InluvwithEdward (sorry if I made a mistake)~ YAY! Someone likes me! Thanks for constructive critisism by the way! Its a reall help and all, and your messages really encourage me to write more so THANK YOU!

mrnjones~ WHERE ARE YOU??????? Is it the aliens again? Evill things......

I stumbled over the bracken covering the forest floor, stamping through the woods. As always, I got angry AFTER something like that happened. Told you I was weird.

With a couple of new rips in my school uniform, I managed to get to the overgrown ivy cottage wich I called home. So maybe it was a little damp, and rotten in places, but it was still my home, ever since I was a baby.

Clangs welomed me from the kitchen, as I carefully shut the door behind me, manouvering around the holes in the floor. It was either Art, or a really dumb burglar.

No, I mean a REALLY dumb burglar.

As dumb, as to resort breaking in to a house with no television, let alone family jewels.

Suddenly, I felt really scared.

"Art? That you?"

"No, its those damn pesky flying mice again! Who else?"

A lot of things. Thank God Art dosent know that.

I ran to the kitchen, still feeling a little wary, only to be greated by a sight I would so much rather not see. Art was swishing around something looking suspiciously like paint, covering half the kitchen along with her in it. Her blonde hair had already acquired some new multi coulored coulored streaks, her yellow eyes burning frenziedly, stunning me with their strange beauty.

She looked like a phsycopathic leprechaun.

Wait a minute.......

"Art." I said calmly "Are you mixing paint in my favourite food pot?"

She looked guilty, a child, her hand once again caught inside the cookie jar.

"I'll clean it! I did it last time!"

"ART! I dont want to eat blue spaghetti for months again!"

She hung her head guiltily. "Im sorry. I was just so angry...." Trailing off, she peeked up at me with hopefull eyes.

I sighed warily. Whenever Art got angry, or excited, she tended to paint to let her feelings out. I was clueless how she could paint so well. My pitifull creations were limited to stick men, and shaku trees. She on the other hand could paint worlds with simple pencil strokes.

It sometimes amazed how different we were, and yet so similair.

We already had a few of her creations around the house, picturing her friends, teachers, with me feauturing hevily in nearly all of them. She was an amazing artist and an even better sister. She was my salvation, my saviour, the only thing that kept me from going completly round the bend.

But that still didnt change the way I felt about blue spaghetti.

"Look Art, food and paint dont mix. And...."

She looked up at me in surprise.

"Yes they do! Look!"

She took the tiniest dash of ketchup, mixing it together with a dab of blue, ending up with a glaring ultramarine. Looking up at me triumphanatly, Art stuck out her tongue ang wiggled.

It was sometimes really hard to remember she was only 11. Only next year, she will get her powers.

Dear God save us all if its Offensive.

"I still don't like weirdly coloured food!"

Art crossed her arms and huffed at me, reminding me of the time when she was five, and completly obsessed by trains. She rattled around the house, huffing and puffing for hours on end. Once upon a time......

"Art! Look, just next time tell me, and Ill give you a spare cup or something to mix in."

"What do you mean? We've only got three!"

Why did I feel like I was fighting a losing battle?

I crossed my arms too, leaning back on my back leg.

"Well, Ill borrow one from Mrs Peters. Now, c'mon. Lets get this cleared up."

She looked upon the rainbow coulored pot regretfully, with all of the spirit of a little witch told to mesing around with Magick. I grabbed a rag, tossing her one as I went.

"So....what were you so angry about?" I probed carefully.

Her face reddened, now resembling a fire. I watched her, amused. No doubt a boy was involved. I didnt blame the boys, flocking around her like flies. She could charm the birds off trees if she put her mind to it.

"Adrien." She spat the name out like it was a disease.

Ah. The infamous Adrien. From what I've heard, he was the only boy my sister was bothered by.

Trying not to laugh, I bent over cleaning the green floor, letting my hair cover up my face.

"What did he do this time?"

"Well....."

A few hours later, when the kitchen was finaly clean, the story of what an ABSOLUTE mean jerk Adrien was, was pulled out of her sister, we ate our purple spaghetti and I put Art to bed, I still couldnt sleep.

I thought about the forest.

I dreamed of Chloes head on a silver platter.

I counted sheep, only to see them turn into little wolfs leaping over minauture brambles.

I tossed.

I turned.

It was no use. I couldnt sleep.

I sat up in my bed, lighting a candle so I could see. The woods shivered around the house, scratching at the walls.

Suddenly I felt really scared, even more than I had when I was facing the wolf.

Nothing could happen to me in here, I reminded myself. Grandmas binds havent failed me yet, and no human could come through the barrier with an intent to hurt me.

I tried to stop being a coward.

Did the things that took her away count though?

No. I was just being silly. Nothing could harm me he.......

And then the candle went out.

And then I saw the grinning white shape outside my window, sitting on a branch.

And then I heard the things tail knocking against the window....

Come out, come out whatever you are.......