Status: Active, I swear!
Little Red Cinderella and the Three Beanstalks
Long Long Ago In A Galaxy Far Far Away
Somewhere in Minnesota
Rikki Collins' disappearance had caused quite a stir in her small, otherwise dull hometown. The first one to report her missing was her older brother, Rick- whether he was the first to notice was another story entirely.
The first day, he thought nothing of it. His sister would often fail o come home at the end of the day, instead opting to stay the night at a friend's house. She never bothered to tell her family- their father really couldn't find it within himself to care where she was, and their mother was rarely home when anyone else in the house was awake. So Rick said nothing that first day.
The second day, he didn't see her at school. Not entirely unusual, he was two years older than her, but something deep inside of him felt a little uneasy, nonetheless.
On the third day, he was in a panic. None of her friends knew where she was. No one had seen her in days. Rick finally told his parents, urging them to go to the police. Their mother was distraught, in even more of a panic than her son. Their father grunted, remarked that she probably ran off with some boy, and turned back to the game on the television.
The police were duly notified. The machinery of the law laboriously swung into action. Searches were made, announcements were put out on the television- causing Mr. Collins no end of annoyance- and fliers were passed around. The town was so caught up in the haze of excitement that followed Rikki Collins' disappearance that her face was even put on milk cartons, and unsanctioned city wide manhunts were a daily occurrence. Unfortunately, the people of this little town in Minnesota, though they meant well, had forgotten the girl behind the face on the milk carton; and when Rikki Collins was still missing by the end of the first week, people began to loose interest. By the second week, fliers showing her smiling face still grinned from every pole, wall, and fence, but there was no one handing them out on the street corners anymore. By the end of the third week, the police called off the search.
At home, the Collins family was, as usual, a mess. Jim Collins couldn't for the life of him see what all the fuss was about.
"Oh come on, Molly," He said exasperatedly to his wife as she burst into tears at the kitchen table once more. "For God's sake, the girl is sixteen years old! She can take care of herself." He glowered at his television.
"J-just sixteen!" Molly wailed, ringing her shaking hands. She was already overworked as it was, and the fact that her long awaited vacation had finally been used as "mental health days" after her only daughter's disappearance didn't help. "She's just a b-baby!"
"Oh shut up will you, I'm trying to watch!" Jim belched, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And besides, you were sixteen when we ran off together. I'm telling you, you stupid cow, she'll show up in three years with an ass load of kids and no husband, begging us to take her back in."
This only caused Molly to sob even harder. Rick kept his mouth shut, as he knew was wisest when his father used that tone of voice. He patted his mother's back, trying to be consoling. But he didn't know if he could comfort her, not when he was so broken himself.
"It's okay mom, dad's right about one thing," He said quietly, trying to shush his mother's tears. "Rikki is smart- she can take care of herself. I'm sure, where ever she is, she's doing just fine."
"Wh-what if she was kidnapped, and m-murdered, or-" Molly's words became unintelligible with a fresh bout of tears. Her son said nothing.
To be honest, he couldn't think of any reason as to why Rikki would have vanished so abruptly, without a trace, unless she had met foul play. She wasn't the sort to run off with some guy, that Rick knew for certain. As far as he knew, there weren't any boys in Rikki's social life. She would have told him if there was- there were no secrets between the siblings. The same things applied if she had run away. She would have at least left a note, even if she was desperate. But even then he doubted she would have done anything rash without consulting him first. She wouldn't have just taken off without so much as a goodbye.
Which could only mean that where ever she was, she was taken there without a choice.
Rick's chest hurt. It always did, lately. Like someone was strangling his heart, trying to crush the life out of it. His baby sister had been kidnapped, snatched from the street or assaulted on her way home from school. There was no other explanation, and it caused Rick endless grief. They had grown apart in the last few years, it was true. Rick had always been their father's favorite, and he was always being pushed by their old man to succeed, succeed, succeed which meant most of Rick's social life was devoted to sports practices; which was laughably pathetic, coming from the jobless drunk that sat belching and snoring on his La-Z-Boy throne.
It was true Rick and his little sister rarely talked anymore. It was true he knew she resented him, just a little bit, for being the favorite. But he also knew that when it came down to it, the only thing they had was each other, and that wasn't something Rikki would throw away just like that.
Rick knew she was gone.
He knew she was probably dead.
He knew that she might never even be found. But he still lied to his mother, told her everything would be all right, that things would wind up okay in the end. He still pretended to agree with his father when he drunkenly proclaimed his daughter was probably alive and well in some roach infested motel in California. He still put on the mask of cool indifference he had carefully constructed for himself over the years at school.
And all the while he kept his pain a secret.
But even in the darkest of nights, there is always hope. Even just a tiny glimmer off in the distance, hinting at a far off dawn. Rick knew she was gone. Knew she was dead. Knew she'd never be found. He knew it because he was smart- he knew the reality of situations like these. And yet, something deep inside of him continued to cry out, continued to insist that if she really was dead, he'd had known it. He'd be sure.
And he wasn't. Despite what he told himself, that little voice in his gut urged that there was room to doubt.
And so he continued to search. When everyone else had long since given up and the memories of the poor lost girl faded into yesterdays newspapers, Rick was out on the streets everyday after school, asking, constantly asking anybody and everybody if they had seen her the day she vanished. Nobody had. He asked anyways.
People began to think he was crazy; maddened by the grief of losing his sister. He ignored their whispers.
One day, in his disheartened meanderings through the dense network of labyrinth-like streets that tangled up the downtown shopping district, he happened across a bookstore.
It was inconspicuously squashed between a Starbucks and a greasy looking thrift store, yet still somehow managed to attract and hold his attention as he neared it. It was a dark, almost forboding type of place- the sort creepy new age hippies or gloomy, world-bitteredstarving artists could be found lurking in the shadowy rows of books.
Exactly the type of store Rikki would have gone into.
Without knowing quite why he did it, Rick paused in front of the shop door, glanced around nervously, then carefully pushed inside.
A bell tinkled. A sudden overpowering smell of paper, dust and leather washed over him like a tidal wave. Inside the shop was dark, and at first all Rick could so was blink hopelessly in the dim light while his eyes adjusted.
Inside was exactly how he had imagined it would be, and he felt very out of place. The rows of bookshelves were narrow, and seemed to loom over everything else, the books housing them glaring accusingly at anyone perusing their shelves. The wood floor was dark and stained, and creaked heavily under Rick's feet with every tentative step. Apart from him, it didn't look as if there was anyone else in the store.
Silence pressed in on him from all sides, like a suffocating fog. He felt uneasy, as if he was being watched. He cleared his throat, to try to speak. The small noise was swallowed by the hungry atmosphere. Changing his mind, Rick turned to exit the store.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear," A voice as smooth as milk and honey cut through the air, so suddenly that Rick jumped and whirled around to face the speaker, his heart pounding.
A beautiful woman came dancing out of a curtained doorway behind the counter. She didn't really dance out, but the way she moved was so graceful and light, she might as well have. She was wearing a long, swirling red shirt the swished elegantly around her legs, with dozens of little metal coins sewn onto it, so whenever she moved they tinkled musically. Her skin was the color of a rich coffee, and her long, black hair was thick and shiny, hanging to her waist; and she had the most lovely big, brown eyes. She looked vaguely Arabic, or maybe Egyptian.
Rick tried to clear his throat again.
"Erm..." He began, falteringly. The woman smiled sweetly at him.
"Have you come to buy a book?" She asked softly.
"Uh, no... I was just going-" Rick stammered, taking a step backwards, towards the door. Away from the predator woman.
"Oh? Well, please come again soon then," She tittered. It sounded more like an order than anything.
Suddenly Rick remembered why he was there. What he was doing. With a herculean effort, he managed to grind his stumbling feet to a halt, with his back pressed up against the cold metal bar of the door.
"Oh... actually, um, I was wondering..." He pulled off his backpack and rummaged through it, all the while keeping his eyes locked on the woman. His sweaty hands touched the glossy paper of the fliers, and he hastily pulled one out and brandished it at the woman. "Have you seen her?" He blurted out.
The woman paused. Took a step closer. She glanced at the flier. Her almost yellow eyes raked over the thin, smiling face of Rick's sister, printed in black and white on glossy paper.
"Have I seen her?" She repeated, musingly. Gently she pulled the flier from Rick's hand, and stared intently at the picture.
"Oh yes. I've seen her." She said, something sharp flashing behind her eyes. Rick tried not to show what he felt. He had the feeling he was failing. "Why don't you come in for some tea?" The woman said, looking back up at Rick with a curious little smile twisting her pouting lips.
"When?" He croaked. "When did you see her?"
The smile grew. Rick thought he glimpsed the white flash of pointed teeth.
"I believe it was the day she disappeared." The wolf grinned.
Rikki Collins' disappearance had caused quite a stir in her small, otherwise dull hometown. The first one to report her missing was her older brother, Rick- whether he was the first to notice was another story entirely.
The first day, he thought nothing of it. His sister would often fail o come home at the end of the day, instead opting to stay the night at a friend's house. She never bothered to tell her family- their father really couldn't find it within himself to care where she was, and their mother was rarely home when anyone else in the house was awake. So Rick said nothing that first day.
The second day, he didn't see her at school. Not entirely unusual, he was two years older than her, but something deep inside of him felt a little uneasy, nonetheless.
On the third day, he was in a panic. None of her friends knew where she was. No one had seen her in days. Rick finally told his parents, urging them to go to the police. Their mother was distraught, in even more of a panic than her son. Their father grunted, remarked that she probably ran off with some boy, and turned back to the game on the television.
The police were duly notified. The machinery of the law laboriously swung into action. Searches were made, announcements were put out on the television- causing Mr. Collins no end of annoyance- and fliers were passed around. The town was so caught up in the haze of excitement that followed Rikki Collins' disappearance that her face was even put on milk cartons, and unsanctioned city wide manhunts were a daily occurrence. Unfortunately, the people of this little town in Minnesota, though they meant well, had forgotten the girl behind the face on the milk carton; and when Rikki Collins was still missing by the end of the first week, people began to loose interest. By the second week, fliers showing her smiling face still grinned from every pole, wall, and fence, but there was no one handing them out on the street corners anymore. By the end of the third week, the police called off the search.
At home, the Collins family was, as usual, a mess. Jim Collins couldn't for the life of him see what all the fuss was about.
"Oh come on, Molly," He said exasperatedly to his wife as she burst into tears at the kitchen table once more. "For God's sake, the girl is sixteen years old! She can take care of herself." He glowered at his television.
"J-just sixteen!" Molly wailed, ringing her shaking hands. She was already overworked as it was, and the fact that her long awaited vacation had finally been used as "mental health days" after her only daughter's disappearance didn't help. "She's just a b-baby!"
"Oh shut up will you, I'm trying to watch!" Jim belched, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And besides, you were sixteen when we ran off together. I'm telling you, you stupid cow, she'll show up in three years with an ass load of kids and no husband, begging us to take her back in."
This only caused Molly to sob even harder. Rick kept his mouth shut, as he knew was wisest when his father used that tone of voice. He patted his mother's back, trying to be consoling. But he didn't know if he could comfort her, not when he was so broken himself.
"It's okay mom, dad's right about one thing," He said quietly, trying to shush his mother's tears. "Rikki is smart- she can take care of herself. I'm sure, where ever she is, she's doing just fine."
"Wh-what if she was kidnapped, and m-murdered, or-" Molly's words became unintelligible with a fresh bout of tears. Her son said nothing.
To be honest, he couldn't think of any reason as to why Rikki would have vanished so abruptly, without a trace, unless she had met foul play. She wasn't the sort to run off with some guy, that Rick knew for certain. As far as he knew, there weren't any boys in Rikki's social life. She would have told him if there was- there were no secrets between the siblings. The same things applied if she had run away. She would have at least left a note, even if she was desperate. But even then he doubted she would have done anything rash without consulting him first. She wouldn't have just taken off without so much as a goodbye.
Which could only mean that where ever she was, she was taken there without a choice.
Rick's chest hurt. It always did, lately. Like someone was strangling his heart, trying to crush the life out of it. His baby sister had been kidnapped, snatched from the street or assaulted on her way home from school. There was no other explanation, and it caused Rick endless grief. They had grown apart in the last few years, it was true. Rick had always been their father's favorite, and he was always being pushed by their old man to succeed, succeed, succeed which meant most of Rick's social life was devoted to sports practices; which was laughably pathetic, coming from the jobless drunk that sat belching and snoring on his La-Z-Boy throne.
It was true Rick and his little sister rarely talked anymore. It was true he knew she resented him, just a little bit, for being the favorite. But he also knew that when it came down to it, the only thing they had was each other, and that wasn't something Rikki would throw away just like that.
Rick knew she was gone.
He knew she was probably dead.
He knew that she might never even be found. But he still lied to his mother, told her everything would be all right, that things would wind up okay in the end. He still pretended to agree with his father when he drunkenly proclaimed his daughter was probably alive and well in some roach infested motel in California. He still put on the mask of cool indifference he had carefully constructed for himself over the years at school.
And all the while he kept his pain a secret.
But even in the darkest of nights, there is always hope. Even just a tiny glimmer off in the distance, hinting at a far off dawn. Rick knew she was gone. Knew she was dead. Knew she'd never be found. He knew it because he was smart- he knew the reality of situations like these. And yet, something deep inside of him continued to cry out, continued to insist that if she really was dead, he'd had known it. He'd be sure.
And he wasn't. Despite what he told himself, that little voice in his gut urged that there was room to doubt.
And so he continued to search. When everyone else had long since given up and the memories of the poor lost girl faded into yesterdays newspapers, Rick was out on the streets everyday after school, asking, constantly asking anybody and everybody if they had seen her the day she vanished. Nobody had. He asked anyways.
People began to think he was crazy; maddened by the grief of losing his sister. He ignored their whispers.
One day, in his disheartened meanderings through the dense network of labyrinth-like streets that tangled up the downtown shopping district, he happened across a bookstore.
It was inconspicuously squashed between a Starbucks and a greasy looking thrift store, yet still somehow managed to attract and hold his attention as he neared it. It was a dark, almost forboding type of place- the sort creepy new age hippies or gloomy, world-bitteredstarving artists could be found lurking in the shadowy rows of books.
Exactly the type of store Rikki would have gone into.
Without knowing quite why he did it, Rick paused in front of the shop door, glanced around nervously, then carefully pushed inside.
A bell tinkled. A sudden overpowering smell of paper, dust and leather washed over him like a tidal wave. Inside the shop was dark, and at first all Rick could so was blink hopelessly in the dim light while his eyes adjusted.
Inside was exactly how he had imagined it would be, and he felt very out of place. The rows of bookshelves were narrow, and seemed to loom over everything else, the books housing them glaring accusingly at anyone perusing their shelves. The wood floor was dark and stained, and creaked heavily under Rick's feet with every tentative step. Apart from him, it didn't look as if there was anyone else in the store.
Silence pressed in on him from all sides, like a suffocating fog. He felt uneasy, as if he was being watched. He cleared his throat, to try to speak. The small noise was swallowed by the hungry atmosphere. Changing his mind, Rick turned to exit the store.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear," A voice as smooth as milk and honey cut through the air, so suddenly that Rick jumped and whirled around to face the speaker, his heart pounding.
A beautiful woman came dancing out of a curtained doorway behind the counter. She didn't really dance out, but the way she moved was so graceful and light, she might as well have. She was wearing a long, swirling red shirt the swished elegantly around her legs, with dozens of little metal coins sewn onto it, so whenever she moved they tinkled musically. Her skin was the color of a rich coffee, and her long, black hair was thick and shiny, hanging to her waist; and she had the most lovely big, brown eyes. She looked vaguely Arabic, or maybe Egyptian.
Rick tried to clear his throat again.
"Erm..." He began, falteringly. The woman smiled sweetly at him.
"Have you come to buy a book?" She asked softly.
"Uh, no... I was just going-" Rick stammered, taking a step backwards, towards the door. Away from the predator woman.
"Oh? Well, please come again soon then," She tittered. It sounded more like an order than anything.
Suddenly Rick remembered why he was there. What he was doing. With a herculean effort, he managed to grind his stumbling feet to a halt, with his back pressed up against the cold metal bar of the door.
"Oh... actually, um, I was wondering..." He pulled off his backpack and rummaged through it, all the while keeping his eyes locked on the woman. His sweaty hands touched the glossy paper of the fliers, and he hastily pulled one out and brandished it at the woman. "Have you seen her?" He blurted out.
The woman paused. Took a step closer. She glanced at the flier. Her almost yellow eyes raked over the thin, smiling face of Rick's sister, printed in black and white on glossy paper.
"Have I seen her?" She repeated, musingly. Gently she pulled the flier from Rick's hand, and stared intently at the picture.
"Oh yes. I've seen her." She said, something sharp flashing behind her eyes. Rick tried not to show what he felt. He had the feeling he was failing. "Why don't you come in for some tea?" The woman said, looking back up at Rick with a curious little smile twisting her pouting lips.
"When?" He croaked. "When did you see her?"
The smile grew. Rick thought he glimpsed the white flash of pointed teeth.
"I believe it was the day she disappeared." The wolf grinned.
♠ ♠ ♠
ShiZAM!!!There we go. Things are not well at home, are they? The ball's been set in motion now.
First of all, I just wanna get a disclaimer in here: La-Z-Boy Furniture does NOT support being a drunk asshole in anyway. So don't sue me.
And sorry about that whole "Rick and Rikki" thing. I thought up her family's names while in the shower, and they just seemed to fit so well that by the time I realized "Rick" and "Rikki" were practically the same name, it was too late. Sometimes characters just name themselves, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
And guess what? I think I'm going to start editing the earlier chapters. Just clean them up a bit, so new readers aren't scared away from the get go. Is everyone okay with that, or do you guys want me to leave them? I wont change anything, you know, important.
And in my personal life:
Anyone remember the song This Kiss by Faith Hill? It came out AGES ago, and I loved it to death when I was little. When all the other little girls were listening to Backstreet Boys and N Sync, I had This Kiss on repeat. Even back then I was more into the romantic stuff than the sex appeal. Anywhos, I really should be going, I didn't get to sleep until three last night so I'm tired. Good night and sorry for the long authors note, my sweet little potato fritters.
~The Writer