The Misadventures of Sybil Cook

Chapter One

Now, our story actually begins with a funeral. Gregory Cook was, in fact, as dead (and gone) as last week's supper, in the most literal sense of the word. The cheap funeral was attended by only a few, as Mr. Cook was an unpopular figure in the small English town of Pensbury ever since he did all the residents a favour and moved to the city a mere 20 years earlier. Before his untimely death, as Mr. Cook was a rather young gentleman, his only tie to this rather shabby town was Great Aunt Agnes Cook. Agnes Cook was an old, gray woman, late in her years and living in the shadow of former wealth, kept company only by the rats she was too weak to chase from her cellar of her large, empty house on the top of an impressively sized hill (for Pensbury at least). Now Mr. Cook, or what was left of him, had three more ties to Pensbury, and their names were Opal, Bartholomew, and Sybil.

Now the youngest of these, Opal, was a child of barely three years and was perhaps the loudest baby there ever was. It wasn't uncommon for her to go from screams of delight to anguish in less time than can be physically noted. She could talk, of course, but vastly preferred shrieking to speaking, and when she did use an actual written language to communicate, it was a great deal louder than was necessary. The middle child, and newly made man of the family, was Bartholomew, an eleven year old terror, or at least in the eyes of his sisters. He wasn't as awful as they ever made him sound, but was by no means even reasonably behaved the majority of the time either. He was a nasty child whose interests reigned exclusively from squishing bugs to eating boogers and every unseemly thing in between. And then there was the eldest, Sybil, whom I previously mentioned was detestable, selfish, and an all around pain in the rear, and was exactly that. She little to no conscious of the needs of her siblings, and if she did she did not act on it, she demanded much where little was possible and was entirely caught up in a deadly game of social monopoly, who had the nicest dress, who threw the fanciest party, which girl is hanging on the arm of the handsomest boy...I'm sure you can imagine. But, as was also previously mentioned, she was not unlike other seventeen year olds of her day, but that was soon to change.

As I can assume that you are of at least average intelligence, I'm sure you have noticed that a key player is missing. What about Mrs. Cook? Well, her fate was just the beginning of the downward spiril that led us to this point. Arabella Cook was a sweet woman from a reasonably wealthy family. She met Gregory Cook soon after his arrival in London and they were married not long after. She was drawn to his charisma and enthusiasm for everything that he did. He was not a bad man, but was disliked in Pensbury for being too....loud. Quiet towns like quiet townsfolk. Three years later they welcomed the first addition to the Cook family, lovely little Sybil. She wasn't always detestable and selfish, but rather grew to become that way. Tragedy can do so much to a person. After Sybil came Bartholomew, and then, after years of failed attempts at a third, the impossible was achieved, but at a price. Arabella was indeed able to deliver little Opal, who was born silent, but at the cost of her own life. Arabella had grown frail after so many disappointments and childbirth was too much for her small frame to handle. So, she died. A joyous occasion turned mournful in a matter of minutes. After her mother took her last breath, Opal opened her mouth and let out a gut wrenching screech, and to this day she hasn't stopped.

The death of his beloved wife drove Gregory to drink and gamble away the fortune he had made for himself in the printing business. In a matter of two years he was completely broke and had to move his little sad family back to Pensbury where he drank away his last year of life and died. Whether because of the alcohol or as a punishment for his misdeeds is debatable, but the profound affect on his family is not. Content children grew restless and selfish, learning from example. The move to Pensbury and the loss of their comfortable London apartment made them bitter. And finally, the ultimate betrayal of their father left them to curse the day their sister was born.