Bell

The antics of an orphan french girl who wants to be a actress or a singer or a traveler or a writer.

• girl has french name and written like a diary
• Meets a young boy she adopts as platonic brother when they steal someones purse and get ice cream.
• He name is Bell, like the Jack Johnson song.
• His friends name is Thomas, Thomas's brothers name is Frederick, and Alexander and Peter.
• She works at a cabaret. She is a stagehand. She lives at the cabaret.
• CAN CAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Cabaret is called "Le Spectacle!"
• Cats are mean.

Plot-

• The disintigrating relationship between Mamma Ramone and Bell.
• Bell becoming less naive and descovering the real world. Belle growing up.
• Thomas and Marcel becoming friends.
• Mamma Ramone's children.
• Pappa Tragor asking Bell to be in an act with him.
• Thomas's family exepting him for being gay.
• Marcel wanting to be a wife.
• Mamma Ramone's family died in a fire.
• In the end Mamma Ramone burns down the cabaret. Because it is a reminder of her house and her family.

Characters-

• Bell-Orphan, gypsy, girl wants to be an actress or singer.
• Thomas , orphan, brothers named Frederick, Alexander and Peter.
• Stella Ramone- Runs the cabaret, singer, actress, black, takes Bella under her wing.
• Francis Tragor-Emcee.
• Roxie-Dancer
• Marcel-Dancer like a sister to Bell.
• Dana-Dancer
• Lee-Contortionist
• Cameron-Transvestite
• Holland-Dancer
• Reese-Waiter
• Nini-Dancer
• Ruth-Waiter
• Angel-Transvestite

Chapter One-

5/7/1923

I want to be an actress! Acting is my passion! I longed to sing and dance on stage. To be adored by crowds. To have my picture taken next to Mimi Vouture, the famous actress. Today I tried my luck. I sang and danced in front of the crowd in "Le Spectacle!". My feet tapping on the ground, making beautiful music. Spinning and twirling.

At the end of my dance they yelled at me. "Little girl, get off the stage! Your paid to clean not to dance!" They were right, I was just a stagehand. I had no purpose on stage.

But in my dreams, I sang and danced! People took photographs of me and asked for my signature! I dined with Paris's most elite! That's why I'm keeping a diary, so when I'm rich and famous, I can make hundreds of dollars! I can make my friends happy!

I have a job. I work at "Le Spectacle!". Paris's most high-end and fashionable club. (At least that's what Mamma Ramone tells me.) I work backstage. Cleaning and helping the dancers get dressed. They tell me everything,(most of it I don't understand). I also work on the stage. I pull the curtain and clean the flowers and trash off the stage. That's my one moment onstage. The one time when people are looking at me, no longer plain Bell, a star!

Mamma Ramone has often told me I am to young to be a star. She says I have to work very hard and clean up lots of trash before I can sing. But when I'm famous. No one will have to work. We'll just sing and dance all day.

I have one other friend. Thomas. Thomas works the lighting and repairs the building. He takes care of me, gets me food and water. Thomas has a family, they just don't have him. He never talks about them. And when I ask him, he just says he misses them very much. Thomas is a little older than me. He's 12 and I'm only 9. He's like a big brother to me. For my birthday last year he got me a purse! It had lots of money and a gold pocket watch inside it. After that we got ice cream and watched the sun set over the Seine. That was all I wanted, a family. And the theater was like one.

Mamma Ramone was my mamma. She made sure I did the dressing and the washing. She took me on when I was 7 years old. She and Pappa Tragor adopted me like there own.

Pappa Tragor was like a father. He made sure I got the curtain up and the cleaning done. He was the Emcee. Sometimes he did shows with Mamma Ramone. But Thomas and Marcel didn't let me watch those.

Thomas was like a brother. He took care of me. He always got me what I needed.

And Marcel was like a sister. Always bossing me around. Throwing things at me and arguing.

That's what family was! (At least what I had read in the story books.) Sometimes, when I got nightmares, Mamma Ramone and Pappa Tragor would come sing to me.
"Oi lienda
Bella che fa?
Bonita, bonita que tal?
But belle
Je ne comprend pas francais
So you’ll have to speak to me
Some other way "
Mamma Ramone had such a sad took in her eyes when she sang that. She told me that she used to sing that to her children. I wonder if they've grow up? I'll ask her tomorrow.

5/10/1923

Mr Cameron had me wash his dress today.  It was really strange because he told me not to tell his wife. He also asked me to brush his wig, and get him some new lipstick. Really strange.

I have been doing errands for Pappa Tragor and Mamma Ramone. They are now sending me into town together them supplies. I see the brightly lit street signs and the tall buildings. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I left the cabaret for two long? The adults needed me, and if I went away they could easily burn it down. All those cigarettes. The place would be a torch.

I have not asked Mamma about the lullaby yet. I first asked Thomas, and he agreed I shouldn't.

5/12/1923

Pen Names

Mary, Elizabeth, Anne-

• Elizabeth Carol<3<3<3<3-4 Like it! Author underknown book.
• Mary Blackmoore<3<3<3<3<3<3<3-7 Gothic
• Anne Carol<3<3<3<3-4 I love this one!

Florence Day

Plot-
A group of people come together at a wealthy estate.
Characters-
Florence Day-  A writer. She is 20 with blonde hair and looks like the chick from Alice And Wonderland.
Emily Downing- Ms Havisham or the grandma from Cold County Farm. Henry left her after she had there first child, who died. Florence's mother gave her away because she wanted to travel.
Charlotte Moore-  Maid. Kind of like Gwen on Dowton Abbey.
Benjamin Hales- Love interest. In love with Charlotte. Pianist. Emily set him up with Florence because she wanted Florence to be happy.
Clara Anderson-Crazy aunt. Emily's sister and really in love with Henry.
Henry Downing- The estranged husband of Emily. Who they bring back to make Emily happy. Florence is his daughter there child never died Emily gave her away because she wanted to see the world. But got sick before she could go.
----------------------
Chapter 1-

London of the 1880's. The London of my youth. The sound of carriages and the drumming of rain.
The sky was a dark grey, and the sun would rarely appear through the clouds. A grey London afternoon affected my mood. The canary in my window cage chirps rang out like music. They helped cure my nerves of what was to come.

My room smelled of smoke. That smoke arose for my chimney. When I was little I used to imagine they were animals and that would become real and fly away. Flying off into the beautiful sunset. The glistening rainbows of colors carrying it away.

My carriage would arrive shortly. Leading me down the bumping cobblestone road toward the estate. My novel was unfinished. And leaving my house I would not be able to bring my typewriter. The road was long and I had brought to much luggage already.

Downing Estates was a quaint little manner down in Essex. Far away from the hustle and bustle of the city that I was used to. I had been there once when I was little. The gardens stretch across miles. The flowers blossom in the spring and a small, cobblestone, bridge sits across the lake. The elm trees in the forests and the wheat fields with small farms and mud flats.

Emily Downing, the Lady of the House, was a fine appreciator of the arts. She had a vast library, and expensive paintings and tapestry's lined the walls. She was a fine gardener and her house was full of beautiful flowers. Expensive vases. And fine wine. There taste in art was wonderful. And I was honored to be invited to there house.

There carriage pulled up to my house. There fine Arabian horses pulled it. Chestnut brown with manes, the color of the night sky. There eyes twinkled liked the stars.

I climbed inside the carriage. My attire was not normal for winter weather. I never like wearing the petticoats. They were to cold for our weather. I much proffered frocks and coats. My long blonde hair was hidden under my cap. My friend had always told me I dressed like an American. I took it as a complement.

As a British citizen I did not consider myself a revolutionary. That kind of thing only excised in France. The streets of Paris were lit with lights. Music and poets danced through the streets. They culminated the true bohemian spirit. Not me.

As we drove down the desolate London streets a thought came to me. I considered how fortunate I was to have money. Any amount would be better than what these people had. The people who lived on the street and begged for a single penny. If they could not pay they would be left on the streets or forced to go into the poorhouses.

And still they kept on. Such spirit! Even when they saw nothing. When there was no prospect in there gloom. There they sat everyday. Looking for work or begging for meals. Refusing to give up and be forgotten.

This is what I saw. Heading down the road towards Essex. I suddenly regretted forgetting my typewriter. This was sure to be an interesting trip and I had such a terrible memory. I was meeting with Emily Downing, a fine appreciator of the arts and a fan of my books. She invited me, along with several other guests, to stay with her for the week.

I had also received a letter about who else that would attend:

Benjamin Anderson- A poet and pianist from Kent. He also wrote poetry. One of my favorite poems by him was;
--------------------------------------------
Love is true,
Love is blind,
Loving someone who is divine.
Her splendor,
and her heart.
Could make a fellow fall apart.
Bask the glory of her hair.
So radiant and fair.
Her lips put rubies shine to shame.
Her eyes like diamonds.
This woman, I hope,
will never change.
-------------------------------------------
He had such a way with words.
And I would be meeting him. One of the greatest poets of our age. Perhaps I could get his signature?

Then there was his mother, Clara Anderson. She was Lady Downing's sister. The rumor going around was that she had lost her mind. I didn't blame her though. If my love just left one day I would cry to. Sometimes I think people are to critical. If we are created to love only one, and that one left, who would we love?

That was all the guests. I guess Lady Downing didn't want to big a party. It seemed impractical to invite three guests to your party. Especially with such a big house. You'd think you would want as many bedrooms as possible filled. Perhaps there were other guests and they couldn't attend? There was only a weeks notice. It wasn't the London season, not the best time for a holiday.

I had fallen fast asleep in my carriage when we pulled up to the manor. I was shaken awake by the bumpy road. The familiar jolt of the cobblestones.

Chapter 2-

Downing Manor was the most beautiful house ever. The road came around in a loop in front of the house. The walls were tall and ancient moss grew on them. The gate hinges rusted. Showing the true age of the house. All around the courtyard were beautiful roses and tulips.

The butler was waiting for me at the door. He was an elderly gentleman. He had certainly aged since I had seen him last. He showed me inside where I saw the most beautifully decorated entry room. The walls were completely wood. Centuries old. The pillars had hand carved faces on them. Each depicting a Greek god or legend.

I was show to my room.

Since entering the house I had only seen the butler. There were no other sign of life. There was dust on the teapots and the paintings had gone uncleaned. It had become old and rundown since my last visit.

"Where is Ms Downing?"

The butler was a nice fellow. But he did not answer me. Simply turned and walked away leaving me standing outside my door. The bed was much bigger than I remember it. I ran my hand along the soft linen sheets and remembered my summer here. The house use to be teeming with life. The talk of parties. Now it was just another old relic on the shelf.

At that moment I had quite a fright. A woman appeared behind me. Not an old woman but a young woman. The maid Charlotte Moore.

"I'm sorry to startle you, I was just wondering if you needed anything?"

Charlotte looked like a nice girl. She was slightly younger than me. Her black hair was pulled in a tight bun. There was something strange about her eyes. They were the color of grass or leaves in the trees. They stuck out against her skin.

"No I'm fine. Maybe you could tell me where the other guests are?"

"Of course. Mr Anderson is in the lounge practicing piano. Ms Anderson is in the garden. And Ms Downing is upstairs."

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"Charlotte, ma'am."

"Just call me Florence."

I walked along the hollow halls until I came upon the lounge. The sweetest music.(Beethoven's fifth.)
Emanated from the room. I followed it like an aroma. It led me to a room, highly panelled. With amazing stone floors and a huge window that led to the garden and the forest. A gold chandelier hung from the ceiling and a grand piano sat in the middle. The source of the sweet sound.

Sitting at the piano playing was the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. His brown hair was lightly quaffed and his face was covered in dirt. He was wearing his riding clothes and his back was completely wet. He stopped playing as I entered the room.

"No please continue! That was extremely beautiful."

He began playing a small tune. A waltz. I started blindly dancing to it. I wouldn't be waltzing by myself but if he joined me then who would play the piano?

The rain had stopped now. The sun shined through the window. Lighting the diamonds that hung from the chandelier. Creating crystal patterns on the walls that I danced under.

I have always debated fairy tales. They couldn't possibly be true. No single moment could be perfect.
But dancing under the lights. A beautiful song playing and the sun shining on my face. This is as close as you can possibly get to perfect.

Chapter 3-

The courtyards at Downing had always been beautiful. You could get lost in the labyrinth of hedge mazes. When I was little I used to be scared of the stone gargoyles. My Governess told me that god encased the monsters in stone. And left them there to watch over us. Like stone angels.

While in the garden I happened upon Ms Anderson. She was an older woman. A spinster. She wore a black frock and traveling coat. He hair was kept under a bonnet. She was picking the petals of a rose and muttering to herself.

"Hello." She did not meet my gaze. She just continued picking petals and singing."Ms Anderson? My name is Florence Day. We met when I was a child." She just continued to pick. Pick, pick, pick.Until the petals ran out and she finally looked at me.

 Her hair was stringy and her cheeks hollow and gaunt. Her eyes were lined with red cracks. And her skin was pale as the moon.

"Hello girl." Her voice was hoarse and cracked.

People often say that eyes are windows into the soul. Ms Andersons soul was cold an lonely.

"Sit with me." I almost made an excuse. I didn't want to appear rude but sitting next to her made me feel like a banshee.

"Why must people hide?"

"Excuse me?"

"I believe. That if people hide long enough they become what they're hiding from."

"I'm sorry what?"

"Becoming what you are though being something else."

I had never considered this, but maybe it was true? If a criminal pretend to be a priest. He might learn the ways of the church?

I considered leaving that very second. But I was eager to hear more of our conversation. I love philosophy and this seemed an interesting kind.

"Liers, liers, liers! Cheaters, cheaters, cheaters! Fakers, fakers, fakers! Slander! Swine! Stealers! Fakers! Cheaters! Takers!"

At that point I though our conversation was over. The rumors were obviously true. Something had happened to this woman. Just as I stood up she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close. Whispering in my ear.

"Cheaters! Fakers! Liers! Stealers! Backstabers! Swine! Fakers! Cheaters! Takers! Shallow! Selfish! Cheaters!"

I broke free of her grasp and made my escape. Several weed caught on me. Trees hit my face as I ran. I came to a clearing and gathered my breath. What could she possibly mean? Maybe the rose just triggered something in her mind. Or maybe the sound of my voice? Or the fear in my eyes?

One thing was apparent. I had not been invited here simply for the art. Benjamin may have been charming but I had not seen Ms Downing all day. I pictures her. In a window somewhere staring at me.

Dinner that night would be a disaster.

Chapter 4-

While doing my hair, I looked at my reflection, I no longer felt like a girl. I felt like an adult. No longer did my governess help me. I was able to help myself. The long elegant frock that had been left for me sat on my bed. Its beautiful blue sheen and diamond tiara fit perfectly in my hair.

I had been afraid to meet Ms Downing. Especially after my encounter today with her sister. Her words echoed in my head."Cheaters! Fakers! Liers! Stealers! Backstabers! Swine! Fakers! Cheaters! Takers! Shallow! Selfish! Cheaters!" Over and over. I hoped that tonight would cure me of my nerves. The thought of seeing Benjamin again made me very happy. Our last meeting was very short and I would love for him to take a stroll with me.

I was still arranging my tiara when Charlotte knocked on my door.

"Come in."

"Ms Florence, dinners set."

"Thank you Charlotte." I noticed her plain maids outfit. "Is that what your wearing?"

"Yes Ms. I'm just the help."

"You need something else!" I handed her a equisite pearl necklace. "Here try this on."

"I cant have it."

"It's ok. You can give it back to me after dinner." It was amazing. It brought out the green color of her eyes. She smiled at me. It felt good to see a smile again.

We walked down the marble staircase. I felt like a princess or a character in a Jane Austen novel.

Benjamin was waiting for us. A true gentleman, so few in London these days. He looked like prince of my dreams. Even more amazing than he did this afternoon.

"You look divine." Benjamin was not talking to me. He was talking to Charlotte. His eyes fixed upon her, admiring her. There was no denying her beauty.

Ms Anderson had a smile on her face. I was relieved to see it. After her episode today I thought she was worse than I heard. But as she watched her son and Charlotte talk. There was a certain light in her eyes. A light that shined in the room. A light that made me feel happy.

It was then I met Ms Downing. Her disapproving face glared at Benjamin and Charlotte. She looked at them as though their attraction was unnatural. She saw my looking at her and instantly changed her expression. She was now smiling a big smile.

She was not much older than me. Maybe 20 years or so. She wore a black cocktail dress. The kind they wear in America.

"Hello, sweetie. My name is Emily Downing."

"Nice to meet you Ms Downing."

"Just call me Emily."

"Ms Moore don't you have some pots you should be scrubbing?"

Ben and Charlotte looked deeply offended at this, as was I, and for a moment, Charlotte almost stayed. But Charlotte was the only maid in the house, and as much as I wanted her to stay and chat, she had a job to do. The butler took her by the shoulder, and escorted her out.

We sat down at the dinner table. Fine wine and perfectly cooked roast. For a while it was fun. We sat and talked about the weather, sports, and music. Emily was certainly a lover of the arts. She praised my books and Benjamin's poetry. Emily asked me to sing and Benjamin to play piano for her.

At the end of our duet Emily was in tears.

"Beautiful! Beautiful!"

Even Ms Anderson was praising us.

At that moment though. Charlotte walked in to clean the table and Emily yelled at her. I realized I had given Emily's necklace to Charlotte.

"Thief! You little thief! Give me that back!" Emily ripped the necklace of Charlotte's neck. Priceless pearls spilling onto the ground. Charlotte ran off crying. Benjamin was just about to go after her when Emily stopped him.

I realized the mistake I made, but it was already to late. Emily was following Charlotte through the door, yelling at the for being a thief. If I told Emily that I gave the necklace to Charlotte. I would leave, and never see Benjamin again. I couldn't let that happen. I kept my mouth shut.

Benjamin could hardly believe what had happened. Neither could his mother.

"Charlotte would never do that."

I was surprised. Benjamin was on first name terms with her. His mother was Emily's sister. Maybe he saw her a lot?

"I think I'll go to bed. This is to much excitement for me."

 We bid Ms. Anderson a goodnight. I was just about to retire myself when Benjamin stopped me.

"Would you like walk with me in the garden?"

I agreed, and we walked together into the frigid night air.

Chapter 4-

We walked along the moonlit path. The light reflected off the flowers in bloom. We were talking. We shared so many common interests. Our love of art and music. We both loved to read and write. We loved the opera, Don Giovanni. And though I had only known him a short while. I felt we had a real connection. We were having so much fun we had almost forgotten about Charlotte. But eventually we reached the topic.

"Why do you think Emily freaked out like that? It was only a necklace? It's not like she doesn't have plenty of money already?"

"Maybe it was sentimental?"

 I hesitated to tell him I had given Charlotte the necklace. I didn't want to ruin a perfect night. Benjamin couldn't let it go. He kept obsessing over Charlotte.

"Let's stop. Let's enjoy this beautiful night and forget about everything else."

"Of course. I'm so sorry. I realize it is beneath me to think of a servant girl. Still I believe she has her rights."

"Of course. You are such a wonderful poet. Maybe you could write one about the moon?"

"I'll try. "There was no light. Left that night. One Winters Moon. There was a wolf howling at the moon.No clouds in sight. Clear and bright. The owls were hooting with delight. One Winters Moon. The giant peaks, the silver streaks, cascading from the gloom. Upon at chance at first glance I happened upon a stream. The lights danced, the water moved, the spell was cast upon me. All the little creatures slept. One Winters Moon. It's rubbish!"

"No! It's beautiful! It's amazing! You're so creative to just pull something up like that!" It was truly a beautiful poem. It made me jealous that my writing talents could not produce something like that. Especially with such short notice.

"How are you enjoying the house? I've spent many weeks here and it had never been this beautiful. The flowers are all in bloom!"

"It is truly amazing."

We paused. The whole universe seemed to stop. For that moment, we were the only things that existed. We were the whole reason this perfect night was created. For us to be together. And so we kissed. It was the most amazing moment ever. People say, that when you meet your true love, you will know them by the first kiss. I felt as if I new Benjamin already.

"Florence." He kneeled on the floor. The light falling across his face.

"I know we just met, but I already cannot imagine life without you. Will you marry me?"

If I had not been so happy I would have seen the sadness in his eyes. But I was naive then. A foolish girl who would say yes to the first man who came along. Just hoping to find my prince.

"Oh my goodness! Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes! I will marry you!" I pulled him close and we kissed again.

I though I had finally found the one. My one true love.

To say this is how the ended would be a lie. This was not the happily ever after you have heard of. This was the beginning of a slippery slope.

Chapter 5-

Our engagment was enounced the next morning. (We has decided to give Ms Downing time to recover from her ordeal.) I felt incredibly soory for Charlotte. I even apologized. She did not exept. The strange thing was she didn't seem mad about Ms Downing or the necklace. She seemed abgry aout something else entirly.

Breakfast that morning consisted of praising from the relatives and scolding by the staff.

The seemed to know something I didn't.

I was walking through the corridors. Admiring the tapistries and vases. When all of a sudden, I encountered Ms Anderson.

Her glamourus appearance had disapated. The beautiful white dress she has worn last night, had been turned into black mourning clothes. Her hair was once again stringy. She looked like a common begger on the streets.

"Vixen! Siren! Witch! You have destroyed true love! Witch! Just like your mother!"

"You take them from your true loves! You take them! Then you bury them in sadness!"

 The shocked me greatly. What had I taken? Surely she could not mean Benjamin. We were so happy together. Ms Anderson's eyes flared her inmost anger showing.

And then I realized something.

Benjamin had praised Charlotte. Not me. Charlotte in all her radiance. The way he looked at her. Like he longed to be with her, and then the way her looked at me. Like I was nothing comopared to her. Her ruby lips outshined mine. Her eyes shined brighter. Her hair was more beautiful.

Benjamin loved Charlotte. And Charlotte love Benjamin.

Ms Anderson took my hands."Do the right thing Florence. Her face was so sincere. Her skin was warm to the touch.

"I had no idea! I will break off my engament with Benjamin, at once!"

"No! No, my child! They must not know I told you!"



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All the sadness of the world. Pandora was the first woman on Earth. Zeus ordered Hephaestus to create her. The gods endowed her with many gifts: Athena clothed her, Aphrodite gave her beauty, and Hermes speech. Prometheus stole the fire from heaven as punishment. Zeus gave Pandora to Prometheus' brother. Pandora was also given a beautiful container which she was not allowed to open. Impelled by her curiosity. Pandora opened it, and all evil spread over the earth. She didn't close the container, it was to late, everything had escaped. Except for Hope. Pandora was so sad for what she had done, and was afraid that she would have to face Zeus' wrath. Since she had failed her duty, Zeus did not punish Pandora, because he knew this would happen.

It was her design.

I was Pandora.

I looked in the mirror. My hair had become soaked from the rain. I looked at my reflection. There was hope that my life would become like a novel. That I would meet the man of my dreams and go on amazing adventures in unprouncable countries. But there was hope for every day. Hope is the blood of the universe. What keeps us going.
I normally do not believe in happy endings. I thought I had met my dream man. A true gentleman.
A prince to take me too my wildest fantasies. A charming gentleman. But now I saw that was all gone. I saw the lies of what they had told me. The true reason I had been brought here.

Varden idea screenplay 2

Episode 1 Varden-

DEAD GUY IN A VAULT!!!!!!
-----------------------------------------------
S" I called you here because one of you is a murderer. But which one. Lets get started."

S"Mr Colder suspected his wife of having an affair with Mr Evard. Good guess by the way. Mr Colder you are a murder. I said a murderer not THEE murderer. You killed your wife just before coming here. Look at you, your hair is wrong. Traces of dirt on your pants. Nervous hand twitch. Classic tells. Couldn't risk the divorce. Losing all your money. Mr Evard killed your wives friend Betty. Because she knew about the affair and was going to tell you. Fearing you would act out in some dramatic way. Which you did. She called her friend Victoria who told me."

S" BORING! Be more creative next time! Think outside the proverbial murder box."

B"Your both under arrest for the murder of Betty Arnold and Temperance Colder."

Later-

B"I have a phone. I also have an email. You can just do that. You don't have to set up an elaborate trap and everything."

S"I lost my phone when I threw it in the river. Remember?"

B"You are so insensitive."

Sophia twitches weird and stops.Starts itching her arms.

B"Do you ever think about going to a psychiatrist? The department has a good one?"

S"I hate psychiatrists. I hate Freud and that other guy. I hate the leather couches and I hate when they ask what do you think your dream means. They piss me off."

Sophias cough gets worse and starts walking slow and limping. And scratching her arms.

B"Are you ok?"

S"I need to sit down."

Sophia and Bowen sit on a bench. Sophia puts her head between her knees. And stratching her arms.

B"The department hired a student named Amelia Debord. Shes pretty young but she made that new kid cry. You already have something in common."

S"Is she old?"

B"No. Shes young. Just out of school and ready to learn.

Sophia starts coughing a lot.

B"I'm not gonna help you forever. You need her. Here have her card."

Bowen walks away.

Chapter 2, Bitches-

Sophia ran faster than she ever ran before. A mob of angry Russian mobsters chasing her down the NYC street. Shouting words that belonged in a Monty Python sketch.
-----------------------------------------------------
Amelia-

This was the building. The NYC police department headquarters. A tall grey building with huge windows overlooking the city.

What a beautiful place for criminals.

Detective Bowen had asked her to meet at her office. Bowen had some patient she wanted Amelia to meet.

She entered the building. There was a horrible smell, like sulfur, that filled the building. The inside was greyer than the outside.

Amelia walked up to Bowens office. Inside the office was Bowen and a poorly dressed blind woman. Whose brown hair was completely splattered in mud and whose clothes were full of holes. She appeared to be asleep, or dead. She defiantly looked it. Her skin was pale and her eyes were hidden by a pair of huge sunglasses.

B"Ms Debord this is Sopiha Varden, shes the woman I wanted you to meet."

B"Varden wake up!"
Kicks Sophia-

S"WHAT THE FUCK!"

S"I just had a dream an angry panda was chasing me across the bottom of the ocean. What does that mean DR DEBORD?!"

A"Call me Amy please."

S"Oh browny gave me tude!"

A"My hair is blonde."

S"That's your opinion."

S"What exactly do you do AMY?!" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

A"That's a very good question-"

S"Yes I thought it was." Pretentious as all hell.

A"-I am a live in psychiatrist." Oh shit just got real. Sophias mouth hung open in surprise and disbelief. Could such a thing exist?

A"I'm the only one in the world, probably? Its very simple. I live in your house and make sure you do everything your supposed to. Like a mom. I make sure you take your medication. Exercise. Eat-"

S"OH THANK GOD! Finally someone to change my diapers! I don't need this Bowen. I'll be going."

B"If you go I'll arrest you."

S"ON WHAT CHARGE?!"

B"Leaving during a conversation. Sit down!"

A"We'd sit down and have regular sessions. We would discuss everything. I'd be like a human diary for you."

S"Oh really? How much would it cost?"
B"The department would pay. You are a valuable asset, and we would like you to continue working for us, but for that to happen you need to straighten out."

S"So your like a human dog trainer? Do you give me treats if I behave?"

A"Even better. If you recover I leave." Best. Offer. Ever
S"Alright. I play nice and you go."

A"Tomorrow at your apartment. 2 P.M. sharp"

Chapter 3-First session
---------------------------------------------------------------

A"Today I'm going to help you overcome your addiction."

A"Let me explain. You don't leave this room until you tell me one person thing about yourself."

S"Fine. I was once a small black child."

A"No."

S"In a galaxy far far away."

A"Keep going."

S"I am the last Time lord."

A"This is just ridiculous. I'll tell you one thing about me if you tell me one about you."

S"I don't need you to tell me I can guess."

A"Alright then guess."

Sophia took of her glasses. Her eyes were stone grey. They were beautiful and yet very erie. Her eyes looked like statues. Frozen in time forever. They were almost to old to be hers."

S"You're the middle of three children. You have a doctor father and a lawyer mother. You grew up in New England. You never wanted to be a psychiatrist. you became one because the thought of being a doctor made you sick and being lawyer made you feel terrible. You always try and look professional even though you would rather wear sandals and shorts. You never wear any makeup around your patients because you think it makes them feel self conscious. And your boyfriend left you for your brother."

A"That. Is. True. How did you know that?"

S"Simple the middle child always looks for success. This office has books about women's law and medical journals. You walk with a New England pigeon-towed stance. You didn't become a doctor or lawyer was obvious. You have more psychiatry books than doctor or lawyer books. You keep them on the top shelf, so you never take them down much. There only up there to make your parents happy. Your desk is unorganized and no psychiatrist would wear makeup with there patients. As for your brother. Hes scratched out on the family photo on your desk. So's your boyfriend. They're hugging in the picture. So Gay!"

A"I'm not gonna lie that's creepy! You cant have possibly know that unless you googled me."

S"I think a more interesting use of your time would be to talk about why you became a psychiatrist in the first place? I mean why would you volunteer to help sick people unless you were a little sick yourself."

A"Lets change the subject. Do you want to talk about your heroin problem?"

S"Fuck off! What if I told you I thought psychitry was just sudo-gungohoe bullcrap and the only reason you do it is because you needed a job and your parents aproval. You needed your mommy to love you but she couldnt because she was sleeping with every guy on the block!"

A"You know what I think? I think you use your pain as a weapon. You see someone who is happy and you cant stand it because you want them to be like you. You want them to be sad or alone. And you don't care if they were happy. That doesn't matter all that matters all that you feel better than them."

Just then Sophia collapsed like ton of brick on to the ground. I thought she was faking. Making a pitiful bid for attention. Her leg started kicking and I thought she could be having a seizure.

At that moment I realized she did need someone.

She wouldn't last a week without me.

A"That's it I'm moving in with you and I'm gonna get you to quit drugs."


Episode 2 Varden-

A-"This is your last one. Make it count."

A syringe sat between us. The last one she would ever have. She didn't need it anymore. She had friends. One of the things I hate about being a psychiatrist is seeing the look on the patients face. The look that knows that in a couple hours, they'll be in hell. A hell they created. Sophia's hell started now.

S"Imagine you ate a box on M&M's every day for 50 years. It's the only thing you every eat. Your body is used to it. You've never missed you do it every day. Then one day they stop making M&M's. You have to eat something else. Your body is not used to that. Your body wants M&M's and your body will reject whatever else you try to feed it. Until its all out of your system. M&M's are like heroin."

A"Thats the worst euphemism ever."

Sophia stuck the needle in her arm. Her whole arm was littered with needle marks. They looked like tiny freckles. Bowen and me had made an agreement. We would watch her for five hours each. It was my turn starting now.
She stared at the ceiling. Rubbing her eyes and muttering some swear words I probably shouldn't write. Sophia fell back onto her couch.

S"Have you ever noticed that rhinos look like fat unicorns?"

Pot Donut, Pizza Dog

Pot Donut-

I went to a run down donut place with my friend there was a donut called,"Happy Donut." On the menu. It was filled with pot. Used up free bail with Sherry.

Pizza Dog-

Demon dog. Crossing street at extremely inconvenient crossing section. Dog get flattened like pancake. Dramatic NO!!!!!!!!!!!

Neon Moon- Bali

Southern Cross-Man and ox pulling cart.
Walking into sacred temple
Monkey stealing moms hat
Giant chess
Plane stoned
Kayak surfing
NO GUM IN TAIWAN AIRPORT!
Orphans at the waterfall
Lazy bat
Extremely cold pool
Australian karaoke night
--------------------
"When I was 11 me and my friend used to go Christmas shopping at Target. We would ask the workers where the Christmas rap, adult diapers, and laxatives were. The look on there face was priceless."
-----------------------
Chapter One


On my travels I have discovered many things, one of those things are don't eat soap. But another thing is that you can do whatever you tell yourself. Self fulfilling prophecy. My dream came true the day I turned eighteen. I had saved up , and stolen, about 10,000. 

 When I was eleven I went to Bali. My parents took my to go to my friend, Maryam's, wedding. She was an Indonesian princess. Her father was king of the island of Lombok. Her husband was Jewish and she was a princess. I guess that makes her a Jewish Princess.

Ever since then I have wanted to go back. And all the other places I have gone. Hawaii, Mexico, Canada, and China.(I actually haven't been that many places.) None have been as friendly or as warm or as happy and loving.

I had been suffering from writers block.(The black plague of the art world.) And then I realized I needed a change. My life was so repetitive. I would wake up, go to school, each lunch, and then do homework. The same thing every day.

Just to be clear.This is not a travel blog. This is a blog about freedom, revolution, growing up, and embarrassing short stories. This is a story about the endeavors of the human soul.


Chapter Two

I hate airplanes. I hate the sound. The bumpiness the fact that your almost 31,000 feet in the air in a glorified refrigerator. Piloted by two people and some college dropouts. That serve peanuts and cheap wine. The only part I like was landing. Because that means you can finally get off that flying refrigerator of doom.

The first time I went to Bali I discovered one clear thing. When the gas starts spraying as soon as the plane lands. Its not air freshener. Its poison bug spray! My jacket caught on fire exactly a year later at a wedding.

If you haven't figured it out yet I am not a normal person. Most of my conversation begin with "Did I tell you about when I was almost arrested in China?"

Still I manage to make several friends. Quirky, annoying, weirdo friends who would take a bullet for me in a NERF war.

When I meet new people I come off as awkward. My smile has been compared to Freddy Kruger crossed with the Cheshire cat. My hair looks like straw and I were less makeup than Jonah Hill. I am so thin I could hide behind a toothpick.

Cons

                                      Cons-


I never wanted to be criminal. But when I met Mary Nottage I knew she deserved hell. A rich snotty old woman who had no family no friends and plenty of money. As an aspiring author I often suffered from something called "Writers Block " The black plague of the art world. Debating whether or not to type this down was about a five minute dilemma. I only had one interesting thing to write. Otherwise I would never write this down. This tale of woe and criminal activities with a side dish of vandalism and bad hair. 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Con

I had never been the brightest person. I once tried to fix a toaster with a fork. Still if there's one thing I know its that stealing is illegal. And I love illegal things! When I was in college I stolen a car and parked on the roof of a Target. My long list of nefarious and criminal activities landed me in a job I hated. Working for an old woman named Mary Nottage. Ms Nottage was a rich widow. She was evil incarnate. She wasn't mean because she was old or because her father was killed by Batman or anything. She was mean because it made her feel important.

Before I start flying off the handle on Ms Nottage you would probably like to know a bit about me? I am the narrator omnipresent ever knowing omniscient. The prospect of actually sitting down and writing was terrifying facing criticism and hate. This was particularly why I hated Ms Nottage. For all the work I did. All the dishes I scrubbed all the floors I cleaned I got nothing.

And then one day I had had my fill. I stormed up the marble staircase towards Nottage's bedroom. She threw off her apron and walked up to the door.

And then I stopped.

I could never get any work it was only by chance there was a vacancy. What would I do? Live on the street and wash cars. I was such a coward. Terrified of an old woman. But to be fair her evil eyes and taunting smile would make the Devil piss himself.

But enough about me! We have other characters to get through.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                        Joyce

Joyce Adan was a maid. Not the kind of maid who wears a French uniform. She was the kind of maid who did all the back work. Cooking, cleaning, she ran the house. Never once was she thanked. No vacations no sympathy. work every day.

 She never got to have a family or have kids. She had been to busy taking care of other people. She was the most selfless and wonderful person to know. She put up with everything. Always wise and kind. The mother of the house.

Joyce had worked at that house for 20 years. She was finally retiring. We(the staff) had pitched in enough money for her to buy a cheap house in Florida. She could spend the remainder of her days relaxing. A nice payoff for all her hard work.

She left that day. We persuaded Ms Nottage to give us the day off. She didn't even say goodbye. To her Joyce was just a vacuum that had broken down. Now to be chucked in the bin and replaced with some other poor cleaning utensil.

We wished her goodbye at the airport. Waving madly as she looked out the window of the plane at us. Me must have looked like idiots. God we envied her.

                                      Spit Take

Every night when Ms Nottage dinner came around we would gather around her dinner and engage in a time honored tradition.

We would spit in her food.

"2,000 miles isn't far enough from Nottage!"I spat

"You could hear her cackeling from the moon!"Billy spat

"Her smile is like knives in your ears!"Rose

"To Ms Nottage and her dreadful bark!"We all spat.

All little habit of ours was to take all the rotten evil food the Ms Nottage refused to throw out and chuck it into the koi pond. When Ms Nottage woke up in the morning her fish would be floating around in the garbage. Her little dogs chewing on there rotten carcasas.

Book concept- Cons

I have nothing to write about. So whatever pops into my head will do. If I have a good idea. You wont see this because I'll be writing something else. So it doesn't really matter. Sometime I come up with brilliant things when I'm bored. I want to write a children poetry book when I grow up. But I swear to much.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Point of view character narration like best exotic and best in show. Point of view of people growing up. 5 random strangers are connected by everyday events. They all work in hotel or are trying to pull of a crime. Profile chapter. They all plan to rob an old cranky woman.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Characters=


Penelope Winters- Author-Writing a story about banking. Realizes Nottage is bitch plans to rob her.Con. Criminal


Joyce Adan- Maid-Nottage-Con. Old woman. The straw that breaks the camels back

Billy Simon-Waiter-works for Nottage-Con.


Rose Davis- Maid- sweet young replacement idiot


Mary Nottage- Old cranky lady-Who works in banking buisness-Mark. They try and steal her money she keeps in a safe.

Begin every evening by spitting in her food.

Begin every evening by spitting in Nottages food

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Living With Joy

Chapter One-

I  have wanted to be a writer ever since I was little. I always dreamed of writing stories about epic fantasies and awesome battles! When I write books it seems to me to make them better, more logical.
And what could be more logical then real life.

And that's why I'm writing this blog. To show people real life. To prove that you don't need power rings or laser eyes to be interesting. This is a story about taking the easy was out. This is a story about laziness and the simple act of not caring. This is someone who would rather hit the caps lock key then hit the shift bar.This is a story about my friend. Joy Cornish.

Chapter Two-

It all started about 6 months ago when I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Imagine me throwing pillows and coffee cups at him while I cry.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Then I lost my job for printing a story my editor didn't like.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Imagine him throwing pens and books at me while he shouts.
----------------------------------------------------------------
My whole life had fallen apart. But now as I sit at my computer typing. I consider it may be a good thing. I could say whatever I want. I didn't have to write articles anymore. I could write books and epic adventures. A far off land where people ride ponies, and for some reason stick swords in stones.

And so here I sit. 2 A.M. with a cold cup of tea and an empty carton of ice cream beside me. Tears streaming down my face and eyes glazed over. That I finally recover my writers block and tell you this great story.

And as for me you ask? I am what you would expect a tall blonde English woman who is currently playing video games and eating pizza while a SyFy marathon runs.
I had just been kicked out of my upscale townhouse by my landlord. My flatmate Rosita had thrown a wild party there.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Imagine clothes on the ceiling fan. Tipped over beer cans and cheese puffs sprinkles all over my couch. Then me being kicked out the door by a very angry Germanic woman. A box of my possessions and an tyke trolly full of clothes I had stolen.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I had nowhere else to go. I ended up on a coffee shop on Baker Street. That's where I met my friend Joy Cornish.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Do you mind if I sit here?"Daisy

"No it's cool. Just trying to decipher this damn crossword puzzle."Joy

"It's upside down."Daisy

"I know that."Joy

"Pass the paper?"Daisy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
We met several time a week at that coffee shop. Discussing topics varying from video games to philosophy, movies to current events and politics and we found out we had much in common. And then one day one fateful day I came in sobbing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"I got kicked out of my house!"Daisy

"That's nice dearie."Joy

"Are you listening to me?! I'm homeless! I have nowhere to go! I'm stuck in this rut and I want my life to change and I want to go on adventures and I want my MOMMY!"Daisy

"Don't you ever feel like your live is aimless like you'll just be doomed forever to wake up and go to work and do the exact same thing!?"Joy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And then Joy began to sob to. It hadn't occurred to me that she had felt the same way. Her job was so successful. Maybe she did feel like me. Stuck in an endless whirlpool of normality destined to grow old and die.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"You're crying and that makes me cry too!"Joy

"But if you cry that makes me cry more!"Daisy

"Now where making each other cry!!!"Joy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And then out prayers where answered. Exactly where Joy had been sobbing was an apartment add.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Two bedroom one bath. Nice view. Gloucester Street. 193 pounds a week."Joy

"Really? That's amazing!"Daisy

"Oh. It's couples only."Joy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And that's when me and Joy got a brilliant idea. An amazingly brilliant and elegant idea. An idea to challenge the like of Leonardo Da Vinci or Galileo themselves. Something so awesome that your head might just explode! Hold onto your brain stems!
----------------------------------------------------------------
"You know. We could go to this apartment? We could pretend to be a couple. Without actually being a couple. Like that show Spaced! We could have a bedroom each and split the rent?"Joy

"Really you'll do that for me!"Daisy

"Totally! I'm not at home much!"Joy

"This is a great idea. This is an amazing idea! Let's go over there now!"Daisy
----------------------------------------------------------------
We had no idea what we were in store for.

Chapter 3-

Never judge a book by its cover, unless the cover has the title on it. This was the case with the flat.
It was a light pink apartment building. A cobblestone pathway and a iron gate sat at the front of the house. Truly English. You could almost smell the eal pies.

The yard was a mess. It had gone untrimmed and resembled a field in the African plains. The lions stalking it were replaced by destroyed water fountains and beer bottles that had been dropped from windows.

As we knocked on the door we noticed something awfully strange. The door was made out of plastic. A yellow plastic door. Right at that moment the landlord opened the door. Me and Joy made a frightful discovery. Mr Peabody, our landlord, was blind.

Me and Joy looked at each other with the worst smiles. Our landlord was blind. I was just about to introduce ourselves when Joy said:
------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello Mr Peabody. My name is Mike this is my girlfriend Daisy."
------------------------------------------------------------------
I could barely contain my laughter. Joy was pretending to be a man. Mr Peabody was old maybe he wouldn't approve of two women living together. This was the perfect cover. There were no other tenants. So our ruse would go unoticed.

Necromance Orpheus

Why do stories always begin with Once Upon A Time? What time? The past? The present? The future? Is the story set in a parallel dimension? Or a planet in a galaxy far far away?

This story is different. This is not a story about princess falling madly in love in two seconds or a dragon ravaging a kingdom. No evil witch.

This story is set in the past. This is a story of love, tragedy, and a conveniently placed snake pit.

Chapter 1-

Once upon a time, in the past. There was a man named Tristen. Tristen was a beautiful singer, his songs could make the leaves grow and the sun shine. He loved his wife, Cherie. Her hair was long and as blonde as the sun. Her eyes were blue as the sky. Her skin was moon pale. She loved to run through the fields, picking flowers and berries as she went.

And then one day she was running through the Fields and tripped. Tristen ran to her side but was too late. She was gone.

Tristen did not sing.

 The sun didn't shine. The sky was gray and cloudy. The moon was gone. Tristen cried. No more happiness was left in the world.

And so Tristen wandered. On an on he walked. Only stopping to tell his tragic story.

Then one day he happened upon a man. The man was an old prophet. He told him of a cave that led to the entrance of Hades. The place of death.

Tristen walked through the forest. The air smelled of death and decay. Until at last he arrived at the cave.

He lit his fire and walked. And walked and walked. And then he saw the cave change. The roof began to swirl purple and blue a lightning crackled. In the middle of the river there was an island. An island with gray sand and dead trees. The water surrounding it was black and rough.

There was a man in a hooded cloak standing on a boat perched on the banks. His face was covered in smoke and his boat was old and creaky.

He was Charon, fairer of the undead. Tristen bowed and spoke.

"I have no money. But I am a beautiful singer."

Tristen sang a song of true love. His voice was like an angel. And Charon felt so bad for him that he made an agreement. He could take back his darling Cherie. If he stayed and sang forever.

Tristen agreed.

He saw once again his beloved Cherie walking with her ghostly hair trailing behind her. Beautiful as the day he left her.

So Tristen stayed and sang. Forever he became the comforter of the dead. He became the immortal singer.

VARDEN 1,2,3,4

It had been one month since the case I am writing about had occurred. And that was the normal waiting period for when aanything happened. Enough time for people to forget, families to mourn, and tabloids to move on. Just enough time for people to stop caring. In the one month I have known Sofia Varden she has solved two cases. She is like a crime solving machine. The case in which I am about to tell you about is the first case we worked. The one that let me get acquainted with the manner of law and the kind of people I would be dealing with. But at the time it was a new job. It has become the norm in the past month.

It first started when I was fired from my newspaper job, Which I will refer too as "The Tabloid," I had been fired for printing a story about a priceless painting that had been stolen. But the tabloid would rather have an article about Lindsay Lohan's new dog. It had not ended well. In the end the paper got what they wanted, Lindsay's picture on the front page and not a mention of the painting, the greatest heist of the year, worth millions of dollars. No word. It was as if no one cared about the truth. When I went to protest to my editor he threw a book at me.

I had never been a person to beg for a job. But after getting turned down from every newspaper or tabloid company in town I had come to expect rejection. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer, dreaming of far away places with pirates and elves. Where animals could talk and sing like in a movie, to tell fantastic stories about fun, bravery and adventure. What I didn't know was that at this moment the bravest person in the world was running away from the police just a few blocks over.

This job was interesting. It was a weekly column about the work of a police officer and they had wanted me to write it. Write it and I had the job. When I arrived they made me sign a waiver and prove my age and identity,I was use to this but people always believed I was younger than I was, it was probably my cheeks(I had dimples the size of craters. My age didn't mean anything.) I was a competent writer and always had good grades in school. I refused to be treated as a child. My height was my only setback, I was so short I could barley drive. I could hear police sirens blaring in the background as I walked to the police precinct.

Chapter Two
The beginning of a long and arduous road.

The walls of the station were gray and dull, the feeling of criminals and lives wronged was in the air, that coupled with the droning rain outside was enough to put anyone to sleep. But I was so excited when I was sent over to the chief detectives office I barley noticed. There was a woman with mud stained hair, and very dark sunglasses in handcuffs inside the office with the detective. I wondered if she was blind. The exceedingly kind generous and funny woman earlier who occasionally runs from police, this handcuffed woman is her. I was moved into the detectives office. The non handcuffed woman introduced herself as Detective Bowen. She was 5'11 her long brown hair pulled up in a bun was quite a contrast to my blond hair. Her office felt much warmer then the rest of the building. A refreshing atmosphere. I felt like she had more humanity and compassion than anyone else. She asked me to sit and began talking almost like she had forgotten the other woman was there. The other woman appeared to be asleep, or dead,I I couldn;t tell with the sunglasses on but she certainly looked it, her hair was strangely and waist long, her clothes were old and rain soaked and any attempt at makeup had been smeared or rubbed off. Sweat was running down her pale skin and you could almost forget she even existed, her but still she seemed oddly cheery, she had a smile as she slept, but maybe it was just the room.

"Amelia Debord, so nice to meet you, we got your call yesterday about your article." Her voice was pleasant, not something you'd expect from a cop. She kept talking about what an amazing opportunity this was for youth to get a taste of after school careers. I was trying to concentrate on what she was saying but the whole time the other woman slept on. Finally Bowen turned to the sleeping woman.

"Varden?" she said,with the manner as how you would talk to a uninvited party guest. I appreciated she was trying to be calm, but now I know this would never work.

"Varden!"she yelled this time, still the woman wouldn't wake up. Eventually in her frustration she threw a pen at the Varden's head.

"OW!!" she shrieked obviously not expecting to be hit with a pen."What the HELL! Bowen?! I just ran 17 blocks! Give me some credit!" So maybe she wasn't blind.

"There's someone I want you to meet. This is Amelia Debord, she's gonna be assisting you in your cases." This was defiantly not good. I assumed I would be following Detective Bowen around, but instead I was gonna have to follow this person around? This blind drunk mess? Miss Varden didn't like this arrangement either.

"Wait I thought I was going to jail! These are false pretenses. I demand to be sent to prison!" I had never seen anyone so upset about not being in jail before. I almost considered walking out at that moment. There was no chance we would get along. There was nothing wrong with her, yet, despite her horrible hair and dodgy appearance, she seemed perfectly nice, I just didn't like smelly people in my car.

"The reason were taking her is we were hoping to avoid some of the more bad publicity and lawsuits that you cause. We think that having her the team would provide the public with a more human side of you." The word human seemed to be the only thing to confuse Miss Varden, like she didn't include herself as a person. I wondered if she had some dark tragic past and if I should watch my step around her.

Finally I spoke up "I think it could be fun, like a modern day Holmes And Watson." That would make her the socially awkward genius and me the bumbling sidekick. I regretted it as soon as I said it.

"Ok what do you suggest?" Varden asked. She had finally given up in defeat, and cooperated. It was the only time that would ever happen.

"How about the private painting theft?" What great luck that was the article I wrote for the "Tabloid "but was rejected, I had done my research, even written the article for the paper, but people were more interested in Lindsay Lohan's dog."Yeah, a Monet painting was purchased by the Anderson family last Thursday for, 2 Million dollars and was on private collection in there house."Detective Bowen handed us the police report."The painting was stolen Saturday night from their private vault. And they refuse police help."As happy as her voice may have seemed, her stare was penetrating, and while I wanted to do nothing more than leave, I agreed.

"What about you Varden."She wasn't asking, more like she was ordering."Nice and interesting, should keep you preoccupied for a couple hours?" And as much as it may have pained her inside. A genius like her to be stuck with me an idiot like me. But she didn't want to be hit with a pen again so she agreed.

"Uncuff me first."Compromise, a once and a life time opportunity with Ms Varden.

"Address?" She had the look a dog has on his face when you drive to the vet. She was probably used to getting her way, being treated like a genius, and of course she was, a socially awkward ADHD genius. Like the cold serial killer on TV. A genius in her own right.

"Micheal Anderson and his wife Lily live at 230 East Street in a private house. Can't miss it."

For once I had felt like I was going on a real adventure. Off to fight crime and catch criminals. Like James Bond. I grabbed my notepad and recorder, I forgot so easily, I hoped she wouldn't mind. Finally we left the office."Aren't you coming?" I asked Bowen,"Oh no I'd much rather be here."

As I we were leaving I heard Bowen mumbled "Fresh Meat". I wondered what she was talking about until I realized the Fresh Meat was me! This was the beginning of long and arduous road.

Chapter 3
Making Friends

It became immediately apparent to me that Sofia Varden was not good at making friends. She lacked the basic social concept of when to be polite and when to back off. It is because of this she never gets invited into houses. Again I wondered if she was going to change her clothes before we got to the the Anderson's house.

"Aren't you gonna change?"A question I had been considering asking for several minutes.

"Oh?"Like if she had forgotten that people wore clothes outside, preferably clean ones, especially when they weren't invited."What we need are disguises."Another great quality of hers was her devious smile. Somewhere between Freddy Kruger and a Cheshire cat.

"Why??"I had never worn a disguise before, unless Halloween counted. But what she had in mind was more in the area of shoplifting. Walking by shops and pulling things of the outside racks. Some of the items she used her "5 Finger Discount" on were a scarf, a pair of ugg boots, and a fedora.

"Are you blind?" I was still interested in who exactly this person was. She just waltzed around like she knew everything. No dignity or common courtesy.

"Do I look blind?" Sophia said as she stole some fries off of someone's table.

Finally I had enough"You have no shame do you?" The smiled her eerie Kruger Cat smile at me,

"Nope. None!"

"Well I don't want to call you Varden. Whats your first name?"

"Sophia."

"You don't look like a Sophia."

"Yeah, I look more like a Bob."

This was the normal level of intellectual depth our conversations got to.

"Do you mind if I turn my tape recorder on?" We were now walking down Pilgrim Street. Two more streets until we got to there. Just enough time to ask questions."Yeah sure."The most agreeable she was all day.

"Do you have hyper awareness? Can you say the alphabet backwards in seconds or something?"(Her all time record was 7 seconds.)

"No I just notice things,"Sofia paused. She wanted to be more specific but she wasn't sure how."It's like everythings just clearer. Everything makes more sense."

"If your do smart prove it" How interesting it would be to see her mind in work. I had my notes and my tape recorder ready.

"Ok fine" she stopped to crack her knuckles began her challenge face on. She took of her glasses. Her cold eyes staring at me like I was transparent. "Your 19 years old, 5''4 tall, 115 pounds. You also normally where glasses but today you want to look professional hence the contacts and the bun. You follow me around like a sheep so you must be the baby of the family which makes you always longing for approval of your controlling lawyer mom and your psychiatrist dad"

I stood there in utter shock as she walked away. The way she looked at me made me feel so cold, like I didn't exist but she knew everything about me."How did you know that? Did you google me?" It was so eerie that another person could know everything about me. Maybe it was just Bowen's office that was warm. She was defiantly cold. I was playing with an equal. Someone who my mother hadn't even prepared me for.

I didn't even realize I was crying until she spoke again. It wasn't a mocking tone like I expected, it was warm, it felt like she was sorry. I wondered how she did it maybe she did researched me and she was just lying.

"It's called cold reading."She was trying to make me feel better, Sophia always apologized for her mistakes when she knew she was wrong."It's simple I just read your body language." Sophia wouldn't even look at me now. Maybe she would say more if she looked up. Maybe she couldn't turn it off and she saw everything. My anger suddenly became an overwhelming case of pity.

"Wow, you should meet my mother." I was genuinely concerned if she was ok her face was turned even paler and she seemed to be sick."So what was it."

"Tan lines."She still wasn't looking at me."Your have a bridge tan line on your nose and a tan line on your neck where your hair would be."Sophia had started to regain her little color. Tan lines I had been to the beach earlier that week."Your age, weight and height are obvious."

"How did you know about my parents?"

"Not many people want to catch criminals. There's a type. A sheltered home, a longing for danger or you don't want to be-" She quickly put her hand over her mouth as thought she'd let go of a big secret she promised never to tell. She put her glasses back on and she could finally look at me. It was ok. Finally someone I couldn't lie to.

"Oh look there's the house!" She had finally retained her normal pale color. But now I realized it wasn't a sick pale, it was a moon light pale. It looked like light radiating from her skin.

"No one taught you to make friends did they?"Two new best going of to annoy some police officers.

BLACK MARKET PALOOZA

Once you met Sophia Varden it was apparent she had connections. I first thought she was a drug dealer when I saw her sitting in Bowen's office. She was just sent to run around like a pet on a leash. She was a pet. And she hated it.

We were smashed together cab heading to the Tenderloin District. The most dangerous district of San Francisco. Well known for it's heroin and homeless people. The tiny cab was filled with smoke from the driven and we would have rolled down the window if it wasn't so cold outside.

"Where is this place?" There had never been any accounts on the news and normally there was so much that went along with the market. Organ Sales, Weapons Trading. I had expected a dark room with all manner of people. The most dangerous people in the world buying the most dangerous things.

"An abandoned subway tunnel." She had apparently been there many times. I had never been comfortable with being alone on a dark street, but somehow being with Sophia made me even worse. She knew the area and the people and was sure to have some dangerous friends.

The Market was exactly as I had imagined it. It looked like an evil farmer's market. The black canopies smelled like mold and were masked by the strong smell of cigarette smoke. Sophia lit one herself.

"Isn't that bad for your health?" Again she looked at me and smiled her Kruger Cat smile. When she didn't have an answer to a question she would do this.

"We've got to find Raul he can help us. Knows this place like back of his hook." Raul had in fact lost his hand in a tragic dolphin training accident in 09' and had a hook fitted on his stub. "Don't question it." And I never questioned anything she will ever said again.

We walked up to a shop selling marijuana. "Hey Warden!" Raul had yelled at us. He called Sophia "Warden". But before I had time to question even this something more confusing happened.

"Raul where would we find some paintings?" Raul was a short man with a buzz cut and a goatee. His hook was defiantly to big for his arm.

"No way I'm telling you anything!" Sophia took this to mean a challenge she took of her glasses and looked directly at the pot.

"This isn't real marijuana this is lint." He was selling Couch Lint as marijuana.

Raul was visibly worried. "Three blocks down then a left."

"Come on. How could you possibly know that?" The marijuana looked real to me. I wondered how she knew that maybe her glasses made everything blurry so she wouldn't have to see anything. Or maybe she was blind and just had super senses?

"Raul's never been trustworthy. Do anything for a buck." Raul did indeed look like the kind of shady person you would think of.

"Then how do you know he isn''t lying?" I had heard about cold reading before. There were these things called "tells". You could tell when a person is lying. She hadn't even looked at him when she took her glasses off.

"I don't I just thought it would be fun." Yeah fun. Going into the Black Market to hunt a Art Thief. Fun.

As soon as we came around the corner the atmosphere was completely different. This section of the track had been taken out and replaced with a new floor. A single light hung from the ceiling illuminating a square figure under a red tarp.

"Who are you?!" Yelled a thick Russian accent from behind us.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" We jumped up. Standing behind us was a very tall, very meaty Russian man pointing a gun directly at us.

"Vat are you doing here?!" Said the tall fat Russian man. I was very surprised that Sophia didn't hear him coming maybe she was so distracted by the painting.

"Darn, I HATE being held at gun point!" Sophia was more experienced with Russian Mobsters than me.

"I'm just a lost blind woman and this nice person was just trying to help me." There went the puppy dog face. The adorable face of cuteness and innocence. The tall fat Russian man lowered his gun.

And Sophia took his kind opportunity to punch him in the face.

"GRAB THE PAINTING AND RUN!!!!" She didn't have to tell me twice.

"COME ON WATSON!!!!"

We ran down the abandoned subway tunnel, a priceless painting under our arms, being chased by a tall fat Russian mobster who was very mad because he had just been punched in the face.

We were in quite a hurry.

There was now over 5 tall fat Russian mobsters chasing us. All yelling obscenities in there respective languages. A barrage of bullets were flying past us at over 820 mph. Several of them going through my tape recorder and notepad spilling the condense of my bag all over the ground. It was ok. I had a pretty good idea I would remember this.

Finally we found another tunnel exit and took the happy opportunity to leave it screaming at the top of our lungs.

"Do cases normally go this WAY!" I yelled gasping between breaths.

"NO that was an exception like. Black Market Palooza." Indeed it was. The two friends headed of to the police station to rub their success in every ones face.

Sofia Varden Plot New-Intro,1

Prologue

To be painfully obvious I have never liked the usual plot.

It seems to me that if you were going to drop a ring in a volcano and had conviently placed eagles you could just ride the eagles rather then hike for three books. I have always hated the intricate plot. Why can't people just drive to the safe house? Why don't you just stay out of the ocean? Can sharks fly? NO! Stay on land. Don't. Die. How hard is that?

This is a story about taking the easy was out. This is a story about laziness and the simple act of not giving a shit. This is someone who would rather hit the caps lock key then hit the shift bar. This is a story about my friend. Sofia Varden.

Chapter 1


Rather than give you the complete and utter works of what me an my friend accomplished. I have chosen to give you an overview.

Orphan book

   As many connoisseurs of fine literature know, exciting things only happen to orphan's. It might be because with no parents come no responsibilities, or maybe because they can get into more shenanigan's this way, but it is most likely convenient to the plot. Olivia Claire and her siblings new this, being connoisseurs of fine literature themselves, they were familiar with the classic story. A tragic fire or a crippling case of chicken pox was normally involved. And they were almost always killed off before they were even introduced. Then the orphans would go live with a series of relatives all being killed of in equally grisly ways. And at the end of the story they would either reunite with their lost parents or finally be given to a lovely home where they would spend the remainder of their days being boring.

Unfortunately this was not the case for the Claire family. There had been no accidental anvil dropped on their mothers head. No toaster lowered into their fathers bath. Olivia and her three siblings lived at home, happily with there parents.

I am telling this story, which I came by through being somewhat related, I am the third cousin's uncle's sister twice removed. But since I am the narrator of this story imagine I am a tall, beautiful woman with a strong English accent and several cats.

The Claire family lived at 111 Cransey Lane. Their house was not a terrifying hellhole that only the devils spawn could live in. It was pink. It had a classic white victorian picket fence and tall hydrangeas and chrysanthemums. The little cottage sat on a back country road leading to the town of Vinegary.

The life was secluded and perfect for the children to begin their plan.

Now I assume before I tell you the plot you would like to know the characters? There was Olivia Claire, an accomplished violinist and pianist. Jacob Claire, her elder brother and sportsman of the family. And last and certainly the most forgetful was Amy Claire. Who we know nothing about.

The Claire children had either read every book or seen every movie and they had noticed one common element. The characters were all orphans. There was always some way the children were left parentless. Maybe a escaped rhinoceros or a tragic accident at a petting zoo. The children lived a happy life. They went to school, did their homework, and went to bed. All the while dreaming of an adventure they could never have.

They had had enough. Each of the children was secretly planning to run away. They needed an escape.

Then one day a miracle arrived.

A young woman by the name of Jennifer Fant came to town.

Jennifer Fant was the children's new nanny. Not the Mary Poppins or Nanny Mcfee kind of nanny. She wasn't gonna change them or give them any reason to stay. She was going to offer her an opportunity.