Storyteller

Once upon a time, a little girl was made to set off to a friend's house, to spend the day there. Strongly against it, she was determined to ignore it when a telegram came for her. The telegram stated that she had a cookie waiting for her, waiting to be eaten. Not wishing for the cookie to be condemned to certain death, especially in her own hands, the little girl set off on a journey to the door of her friend's house, nervous that she would have to face the wrath of the cookie. She waited outside for quite a bit, too afraid to knock. She was beginning to have second thoughts when she decided to try the door and see if she could sneak a peek. Perhaps a sneak peek would give her a rough picture and help her decision. She tried. It opened! Holding back a gasp, she eyeballed her way through the tiny crack. She saw her friend there, holding the cookie hostage. And it wasn't alone, he had two friends with him, also being tortured! The trio were being held in an airtight, one-of-a-kind transparent enclosure, made just to hold cookies. They were quickly running out of air, the little girl saw that their bodies had gone soft and mushy and they would collapse anytime. Her friend did not see her. The gruesome scene was too much for the little girl. With as much tense effort as she possibly could, she painstakingly closed the door. It registered a slight click, but did no more. Her mind had been made up. She had to fled, now, quick, before she too was taken hostage! The play-date had been a trap, a scheme to lure her here and kidnap her and be held hostage at the pleasure of that evil, evil person that dared call himself her 'friend'! 

She was about to take to her heels when the unthinkable happened. The door opened, and the face of her 'friend' emerged, radiating with such pure evil she immediately shrunk away from him. In her terror, her feet cemented themselves to the ground. She was trapped! At this point the beginning of a long battle begin. She was unable to put up much fight at the door, the 'friend's' radiation dumbstrucked her. However, just as he approached to grab her, she took flight; her feet suddenly finding their wings. At this point, her 'friend' turned enemy reached out and snatched her precious magic shoes. These shoes were special to the little girl; they were her mother's and were the most beautiful leather footwear she'd ever had. Nearly tripping, the little girl watched in horror as her shoes disappeared into the dark cavern of the enemy's castle, his silent laughter echoing in her ears. The door did not close. Evidently, the shoes were just the appetizer. She was the main course. That enemy was setting a bait!

Against all her inner conscience, she mustered up enough strength to enter the cavern; her spirit dominated by her determination to find her shoes, rescue them, and perhaps those cookies. Her eyes widened as she entered the enemy's lair. She saw her shoes, dangling from his fingers, and the evil smile that greeted her. Enraged, she made a rush for them; the most foolish decision ever. The door shut loudly behind her. The enemy tossed the shoes to the side, reached out and enveloped her entire being as she rushed for the shoes. Struggling, she was taken to the cellar, where she was thrown in and locked up. There was no escape. After much observation and exploration, she found her only companions: A large, gray wool jacket and a few thin cushions. She wrapped the woolly warmth around her and lay on the pillows, praying for a miracle. She tried to sleep, but was unable to do so because she had an uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. 

So, while hoping for sleep to descend, she traced the lines of the cellar walls with her eyes. She noticed white poster-like images put up everywhere, each with something ineligible written on them. On closer inspection, none of them made sense. She was about to try and see if it was a secret code to break her out of here, but the enemy returned. Snatching her up, he struggled with effort to carry her up to his torture room, as she was insanely heavy despite being a 'little' girl. Puffing and panting, he tossed her into his torture room, relieved to be freed of his heavy burden. Looking up, she noticed the three hostages still trapped in their prison. Her shoes were nowhere to be seen. What, or what now? 

 

There were no grimy torture weapons anywhere, as far as she could see. The room, however, was a mess. There was a near-empty jug of three-day-old tea on the table, books on torture methods spread everywhere, and a window that looked out into the measly, barren gray garden. In the garden stood a large, tall tree, with huge roots that punctuated the ground in outspread swirls. Its branches were inhabited by the enemy's pet monkeys, fifty of them in total, scampering around up and down, bouncing about the bark. The enemy loved them, with all his heart. They were the only true living things he actually loved in the world. 

Turning to his victim, he grinned a slow, evil smile. The torture was about to begin. He disappeared for a moment, and returned carrying a plate with something on it. The little girl shunned away from it as the plate came near, screaming and whipping her head from side to side. She curled up in a corner, and had nowhere to go. Escape was inevitable. Her eyes had already seen what the plate carried: a crusty, rusted pie slice inlaid with something mushy, soft and brown. 

To be continued..