Hello guys! I just want to share the fanfiction I am working on right now. I hope you enjoy it!
CHAPTER 1: THE FUTURE
She was seated in front of her
bureau, leaning towards the mirror as she dabbed her plump, full lips with a
maroon lipstick, when someone knocked her bedroom door. She puckered her lips
before turning her attention to the reflection of her door in her mirror.
“Yes?” her icy, low voice rang out.
The door slowly opened, letting out
a loud creak. The young woman, who somehow looked like the lady in front of the
mirror, except for their hairs and the obvious contrast of their clothes,
frowned at the creaking door.
“Your door is too noisy, Morticia,”
she said, still eyeing the door with distaste.
“Good morning to you, too, Ophelia,”
the young woman called Morticia replied. She turned to face the other lady,
Ophelia. “Please, Ophelia, ignore my door and have a seat. I like my door that
way.” She gestured towards her bed before reaching out for the hair brush on
her bureau.
Still appalled by her sister’s door,
Ophelia pursued the topic. “You know, Morticia, whenever you open this door,
you can be heard all over the house.” To prove her point, she pushed and pulled
the door several times.
“I do not really care about being
heard, Ophelia,” Morticia replied nonchalantly. She watched her sister continue
playing with her door. “And please stop pushing and pulling that, the creaking
will not go. Besides, since you said that the creaking is heard all over the
house, surely Mother will be bothered by that.”
The warning about their mother
reprimanding her stopped Ophelia from playing with the door. She shrugged and
abandoned the creaking door.
“But how can you sneak out if your
door wakes everybody up during the night?” she finally asked. She crossed the
room to sit on Morticia’s bed and watched her sister brush her ebony hair from
roots to tips.
Morticia chuckled softly. “When I
need to sneak out, I can always use the trapdoor,” she said, pointing on the
floor. “That leads straight outside of the house. There are also several secret
panels in this room which can lead to almost anywhere inside and outside the
house.”
“Lucky duck!” Ophelia exclaimed with
envy in her voice.
“Dear, you hardly have to sneak
out,” Morticia pointed out. “Between the two of us, you can get away with
almost anything.”
“Except leaving at the dead of the
night,” Ophelia answered. She crouched on the floor of the room, trying to look
for the tell-tale signs of the trap door.
Morticia stopped brushing her hair
and stared at her sister, an appalled look evident on her face. “You have
intentions of leaving the house during the night?”
Ophelia turned to her sister, her
cheeks flushing slightly. “Oh, do not look so surprised, Morticia. I do have
social life, after all.”
“Oooh,” breathed Morticia. She
resumed brushing her hair. “What kind of social life? The one that involves
romance?”
“Oh, don’t tease!” Ophelia hastily
said, her voice several octaves higher than usual. She tries to stop herself
from blushing. She straightened up and sat back on Morticia’s bed. She turned
her attention to the decorations inside her sister’s room. “After all these
years, I should have been used to your… eccentric taste, apparently, I still am
not.”
“Dodging the subject of romance, I
see,” Morticia commented knowingly. “Very well. But do not expect me to forget
about that. I will learn about your so-called social life in one way or
another. And to answer your comment, I, too, am still getting used to your
penchant. Looking at the two of us, who would have really thought that we are
twins?”
“True enough,” Ophelia agreed, quite
glad that Morticia dropped the subject of romance. She scanned the room with a
look of mixed amazement and confusion crossing her face.
“So, what brought you here,
Ophelia?” Morticia asked to stop her sister from attempting to ask her about
her boarded up windows.
“Oh, Mother wanted to make sure that
you are coming to breakfast,” her sister replied.
“Now that is news,” Morticia
commented. She put down her hairbrush and started braiding her hair into two
identical plaits.
“Morticia, don’t be hard on Mother,”
Ophelia scolded. “She does care for you, you know.”
“Does she really?” Morticia
questioned in a flat voice to hide her sarcasm. She picked up two hair ties and
tied the braids. “What does she want?”
“Of course, she does!” Ophelia
replied indignantly, her shrill voice ringing out.
“Ophelia, do not talk to loud.
Cleopatra might wake. It is hard to stop her tantrums when her sleep gets
interrupted,” Morticia said nodding towards an African strangler, potted on her
bed side table. The plant shifted but did not seem to wake.
“Sorry,” Ophelia said
apologetically. She lowered her voice and continued, “Just do not speak of
Mother like that. You might not believe it, but she cares. Anyway, she is
calling for a family meeting during breakfast.”
“Alright, fine, I am coming,”
Morticia said reluctantly as she stood up to go. “I wonder what this is all
about. Last time it was about a trip to Hawaii.”
“Oh, it won’t be that bad, and
Hawaii wasn’t too bad, too,” Ophelia replied. She also stood up, patted the daisies
on her blonde hair to check if they are still there, before hooking her arm on
the crook of Morticia’s. “She said it’s about our future.”
“Wonderful,” Morticia commented, not
bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice, before slamming down her bedroom
door.
From
the bedside table, Cleopatra shifted and continued to sleep peacefully.
***
“What are you wearing?” an
elegant-looking woman, who looked so much like the twins, asked Morticia as the
twins enter the dining room. The smile on Morticia’s face slowly disappeared as
she watched the woman’s frown deepen while she eyed her dark clothing.
Morticia
was wearing a dark gray, long sleeved smock that stopped a little above her
knees over a black, fishnet stockings, and a pair of black, leather heeled ankle
boots.
The
woman’s frown transformed into a deep scowl as she eyed Morticia’s equally dark
makeup. Besides her maroon lipstick, Morticia looked even paler with the black,
heavy lines around her almond-shaped, icy blue eyes. Her thick, long, and
permed eyelashes looked even thicker with the black mascara applied on them,
with matching gray to black gradient of eye shadow on her eyelids.
Morticia
sighed before replying, “Day clothes?”
“Day
clothes,” the woman repeated in distaste. “Ophelia’s clothes are day clothes. Can you not be normal?
Even with just the clothing?”
Morticia
opened her mouth to respond but Ophelia stopped her by replying, “Now, now,
Mother. What happened to pleasantries first during the morning? Good morning,
Mother.”
“Morticia
happened,” Mrs. Frump murmured. She walked around the table, sat on her chair,
and started eating. “And don’t you dare start, Ophelia.”
“Mother,”
Ophelia began as she and Morticia sat on their chair on either side of Mrs.
Frump’s. “None of us is normal.”
“It
does not have to show, does it?” their mother retorted. “You father’s late
again. And thank goodness you finally showed up in this family’s table,
Morticia.”
“Regretting
it already,” Morticia mumbled. She picked up her dining knife and forcefully
stabbed the toast on her plate.
“Have
I not repeatedly told you not to play
with your food, young lady?” Mrs. Frump barked. She glared at her daughter, and
for a miniscule amount of time, a look of love and longing crossed her eyes.
And as fast as it came, it was gone.
Morticia
once again sighed. She let go of her knife and sat back on her chair, her arms
crossed. She looked at Ophelia, who was already spreading a gray jelly on her
toast, and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow but sad nothing.
“I
am not late, you just want to eat early,” a deep, booming voice of a man said.
He was a beefy man, but with a kind twinkle in his eyes. “And Esmeralda, stop
whining about Morticia’s clothes. You do that every time, and on the next
meals, she does not come to the table and eat with us. I hardly see our
daughter because of your rants. Good morning, angel,” he said kissing Ophelia’s
flowery head. “Your daisies look well, Ophelia.”
“Thank
you, Father,” she replied, looking up at Mr. Frump. “I just watered them this
morning.”
Mr.
Frump smiled at Ophelia before crossing to the other side of the table to kiss
Morticia on the head. “Good morning, my dark angel.”
“Hello,
Father,” Morticia replied, a hint of warm affection in her voice was evident.
“That is why she continues on doing
whatever nonsense she is doing, Hector,” Mrs. Frump angrily said as Mr. Frump
sat on his chair across hers and began eating his breakfast.
“You spoil her,” she said after a few moments of Mr. Frump’s silence to
ignore her. She said the word as if it was a bowlful of fruit cereal with fresh
milk. Still, Mr. Frump chose to ignore his wife’s comment. He and Ophelia
continued eating in silence. Morticia glared at her mother, but still said
nothing.
“Eat,” Mrs. Frump commanded
Morticia.
Morticia closed her eyes for a few
seconds before sighing and picking up her for and taking out her knife from the
toast. She took a deep breath and started spread some algae jelly on the toast.
When she finally took a bite, Mrs. Frump relaxed on her seat and continued
eating. For a while, they
looked like a traditional family, enjoying a quiet meal.
However,
that illusion was disrupted when Mrs. Frump clapped her hands together to
remove the bread crumbs from her hands. She briefly glanced pointedly at her
husband, conveying some sort of message – if not a threat. He pursed his lips
together in reply, and released the knife and fork from his grasps in a
clutter, as he sat back on his chair. Morticia and Ophelia both looked at their
father expectantly.
“Your
mother wants to discuss something with the both of you,” he simply said, not
giving anything away.
Ophelia
quietly laid down her knife and fork and turned to face her mother as Morticia,
fully aware of her mother’s irritation to most of her actions, let go of her
fork on the plate and moved to stab her toast once again with her knife.
“How
many times do I have to tell you, Morticia?” barked Mrs. Frump angrily. “Do not
play with you –”
She
was not able to finish her sentence because her daughter already stabbed the
toast with her knife, before finally shifting her attention to her overly
irritated mother. She curled the sides of her lips to humor Mrs. Frump’s
irritation.
“I’m
warning you, young lady,” Mrs. Frump said through gritted teeth. She took a
long, deep breath before speaking again. “Now, I want to discuss about your
future. Have you already decided to which college will you be going in the
fall?”
“Yes,
Mother,” Ophelia replied, intending to pry her mother’s scrutinizing glare from
her sister. “I am going to West Parker and take up agrarian studies.”
“Good
choice,” commented Mrs. Frump with a proud smile.
“I’d
really want to know which plants can grow on my head,” Ophelia added. “I was
hoping I can grow a garden.”
“That’s wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Frump
replied, still smiling. Her warm affection visibly waned as she turned to her
other daughter. Her smile melted and her eyebrows drew close to each other.
“And you, Morticia?”
“Salem University, witchcraft,”
Morticia proudly replied. Both Ophelia and Mr. Frump smiled in agreement to Morticia’s
choice. But Mrs. Frump thought otherwise. Her face hardened and paled, while
her eyes dance with rage.
“Salem University in Salem,
Massachusetts?” she asked, her voice constricted with a mixture of fear and
anger. She grabbed the table cloth so hard, as if her sanity depended on it.
“Yes,” Morticia happily replied. Her
happiness was very innocent, void of the usual sarcasm and estrangement she
would give her mother, that when she turned to face Mrs. Frump, she was hoping
to see her as happy and proud as she is, after all, Mrs. Frump had her college
at Salem. But when she saw her mother’s livid eyes, she gasped in fear. Mr.
Frump and Ophelia’s smiles also melted at the sight of Mrs. Frump’s reaction.
“You will not be going to Salem,”
Mrs. Frump said, looking straightly to Morticia’s eyes.
“What?” Morticia and Ophelia asked
in identically shocked voices.
“You heard me, Morticia. You will
not go to Salem,” Mrs. Frump turned to her other daughter. “And stay out of
this, Ophelia.”
A long silence enveloped the room.
The air was so thick with pressure that Morticia had a hard time breathing
properly. She felt as if she was doused with a boiling pot of caramel in a
rainbow colored aquarium.
“Why?” she finally asked, her voice
so hushed that it was barely audible.
“You do not have to know why.”
“I am a witch. I have to go to
Salem.”
“No,”
“You went to Salem, why shouldn’t
I?”
“I said, you will not be going!”
“But –”
“No buts. I said no!”
“Father…” Morticia pleaded for her
father’s help with very beseeching eyes that Mr. Frump could not resist.
“Esmeralda, maybe –” he began but
Mrs. Frump stopped him with a glare.
“Don’t you dare, Hector!” she
shouted in rage. By this time, she and Morticia were standing up, both very
emotional. The former, in fury of her daughter’s persistence, while the latter,
in pleading for her mother’s change of mind. Mrs. Frump took another deep
breath and sat down.
“Morticia,
sit down,” Mr. Frump said, trying to calm his daughter down. Morticia ignored
him and remained standing. Ophelia crossed the table to Morticia’s side, held
her sister by the shoulders and tried to make her sit. Still, she did not
budge.
“You heard your father, sit down!”
Mrs. Frump cried as she glared at her. Her face was red and a vein on her
temple was visibly throbbing. Reluctantly, Morticia sat down. Ophelia remained
standing next to her, still holding her shoulders to show support. There was
silence at first, but broken by Mrs. Frump.
“My decision is final, Morticia. You
will not go to Salem. Where else were you accepted?” she asked in a tone of
finality to dismiss any more discussion about Salem University. However, her
daughter chose not to answer.
“Morticia…” she warned.
“Esmeralda, let us talk about this
later, when the two of you have already calmed down,” Mr. Frump said. He stood
up to go.
“No one is leaving this table until
we’re done discussing about Morticia’s schooling. And I am calm!” she nearly
screamed, stopping her husband from leaving. He sat back down as she pressed
Morticia on.
“Where else have you been accepted?”
she repeated, her voice full of malice. Still, Morticia remained quiet.
“Morticia! Answer me!”
Morticia winced as her mother threw
her dining knife in frustration. It whizzed past her right ear, missing her
about a quarter of an inch, and hitting an ancient china plate on display
behind her. The plate broke and fell on the floor into hundreds of pieces.
“West Parker. Yale. And Stanford,”
she finally answered, her voice maintaining its hushed volume. “For
literature.”
“Fine, you will go to West Parker
with your sister,” Mrs. Frump said with a tone of finality.
“No, Mother,” she spoke up,
reflecting her mother’s tone. “I am going to Salem.”
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?
So hard-headed?!” her mother asked. She balled her fists in irritation. “I
clearly remember that I said no!”
“Alright, if you will keep on
insisting on what you want given the
irony that what we are having is a discussion,” Morticia began. “I will not go
to college at all.”
“What?” Ophelia incredulously asked.
She dropped her hands from her sister’s shoulder.
“Morticia, you should give this a
further thought,” Mr. Frump added, similarly shocked as Ophelia.
“No, Father. I’d rather not go to
college at all if I will not be studying in Salem,” Morticia replied. She
challenged her mother’s glare.
“Then leave this house,” Mrs. Frump
retorted.
“Esmeralda!” Mr. Frump exclaimed as
he stood up in defense for their daughter.
“Do not be rash!”
“It’s alright, Father,” Morticia
quietly said, adapting the calm intonation she previously had. “I will leave if
that is Mother’s wish.”
She pushed her chair back and stood
up to go.
“Leave this dwelling and do not
bother coming back,” Mrs. Frump warned as Morticia was about to step out of the
room. “And you will be cut off.”
Morticia swiveled and faced her
mother. Her eyes were like circles of Antarctic glaciers. She smiled without
humor.
“Like that matters to me, Mother,”
she frostily said. Then she turned around and continued walking away.
Ophelia, however shocked, pursued
her sister. Mr. Frump glared at his wife but said nothing, before pushing his
chair backwards with so much force that the legs broke off. He turned his heel,
and followed his daughters out the dining room.
Mrs. Frump raised an eyebrow in
amusement before taking another toast from the bread basket, buttered it, and
once again ate, as if nothing happened.
***
“Morticia, wait!” Ophelia called.
Morticia stopped walking. She faced her sister, waiting for her to catch up
despite her want to just ignore Ophelia. She glanced behind her sister and saw
her father coming as well.
“You are not seriously considering
the idea of leaving, are you?” Ophelia asked the moment she reached her sister.
“I have never been this serious in
my life. And she wants me to,” Morticia nonchalantly replied with a shrug.
“Besides, why should I study in a place where I do not want to? And study a
discipline that does not interest me? I’d rather not.”
“But darling, you cannot just
leave,” Mr. Frump countered.
“And you are interested in
literature, European literature, to be exact,” Ophelia added.
“Of course, I can, Father,” she
replied, ignoring her sister’s comment. “I am of age, and I can use my savings
to go…”
“Where?” Ophelia pressed on.
“I do not know. Anywhere but her, I
suppose.”
“And what will you do?” her father
asked, his voice full of concern.
“Father,” Ophelia began. Her eyes
were full of panic and her hands were shaking in anxiety. “You cannot let
Morticia leave! You heard what Mother said, once she leaves, she cannot come
back!”
“Do not worry about me, Ophelia,
dear. I will be fine,” Morticia reassured her twin sister. She turned to her
father. “I do not know. Perhaps find a job that will finance my education at
Salem. Or look for a scholarship for me in Salem.”
“Darling, I am sorry I was not able
to defend you from your mother,” Mr. Frump apologetically said. “When we
started this family, we both agreed that she will be in charge of your
education.”
“It was not your fault, Father. And
I am not blaming you for not defending me,” she replied with a weak smile. She
patted her father’s shoulder to console him.
“Morticia, please,” Ophelia begged.
Her eyes were brimming with tears. She took Morticia’s free hand and squeezed
it, trying to convey a silent message. Then she added, “Please don’t leave.”
“I never knew you are very much
attached to me, Ophelia,” Morticia said, her lips slightly parted in an amused
smile.
“You are my only sister,” Ophelia
replied, as if that already explained her actions. “So will you please not leave?”
Morticia sighed. “I just do not
understand why she won’t let me go to Salem. She went there, why shouldn’t I?”
“Salem University was a traumatic
place for your mother, you should understand that,” Mr. Frump told Morticia and
Ophelia.
“Quite contrary to what we’ve seen,”
objected Morticia.
“What do you mean?”
“We saw Mother’s mementos from
college,” Ophelia said. “Her year books, some correspondence during the school
year, even her college diary entries said that her stay in Salem was
wonderful.”
“Those encouraged me to go to
Salem,” Morticia added.
Mr. Frump closed his eyes and
sighed. When he opened them, they were raw and fragile, showing great sadness.
“Something terrible happened in
Salem,” he finally said after a long pause.
“We know,” the twins replied in
unison. “Aunt Esther.”
“How…?”
“We saw her death certificate in the
attic together with Mother’s college things,” Ophelia answered as if that was
obvious.
“And we saw an article from an old
newspaper years ago, saying that at big explosion killed an unnamed female
student in Salem,” Morticia added. “Besides, you cannot expect us to buy your
preposterous story of how Aunt Esther died. Who would die in overdose of
cyanide?”
“Then you should understand why your mother is against you going to Salem,”
Mr. Frump replied.
“Not at all,” Morticia objected.
“What happened to Aunt Esther was caused by a number of circumstances, not
necessarily applicable to me. Besides, given my knowledge of what Aunt Esther
did, I know what I must not do. Over the years, science has proven and disputed
a lot of things. I know better.”
“I know that your mother knows that
–”
“Does she really?”
“Of course she does,” Mr. Frump
sighed. “But she does not want to gamble your chances.”
“She does not trust me then,”
“No, darling. She is just afraid
that what happened to her sister might happen to her daughter. She doesn’t want
to lose you, given that you are the complete resemblance of your Aunt Esther.”
“So because of her fear, I cannot do
what I want to do?” Morticia asked. “That is hardly fair, Father.”
“Please reconsider this,” Ophelia
insisted. “I do not want you to go. Doesn’t that give any weight for a change
of heart?”
“I am sorry, Ophelia,” Morticia
replied, her eyes mirroring her sister’s sadness. She shrugged, trying to look
nonchalant. She waved her hand, gesturing towards the totality of the house.
“Mother made her decision, and I made mine. Leaving this house seems to be the
only thing we can agree on.”
“Father! Please do something,”
Ophelia pleaded. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet; the petals of the
daisies on her head were showering both Mr. Frump and Morticia.
“You will be fine, Ophelia,”
Morticia assured with a slight smile. “You will be an only child.”
“Oh, Morticia, don’t kid! This is
serious!”
“I am serious, Ophelia.”
“How about a compromise, darling?”
Mr. Frump asked, interrupting the twins. They both abruptly faced him.
“What compromise?” Morticia asked
warily.
“You will study Literature in West
Parker, and I will finance your post-graduate study in Salem,” he proposed. “Or
better yet, in Transylvania.”
“Tr… Transyl… vania?” Morticia asked
incredulously, at which Mr. Frump nodded at. After a moment’s thought, she
finally responded. “This is not a compromise, Father. This is a bribe. A bribe
for me to do what Mother wants.”
“Be that as it may, I only want you
to stay here,” he answered.
“Well…” Morticia began.
“Oh, Morticia!” Ophelia cried.
“Accept Father’s offer, for goodness’ sake!”
“Alright, alright,” Morticia
replied, putting up her hands in defeat.
“Oh, thank you, Morticia!” Ophelia
almost screamed. She threw her hands around her sister and locked her in a
tight embrace. She angled her head towards Mr. Frump. “Thank you, too, Father!”
“Ophelia,” Morticia rasped. “I
cannot breathe.”
“Oh, sorry!” Ophelia replied as she
let go of her sister. “I am just so happy that you are staying!”
“So I see,” Morticia replied with a
smile. She looked at her father and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “At the
moment, I do not know how I should feel about our arrangement. But I supposed I
should be grateful. Thank you Father.”
“You are most welcome, Morticia,” he
replied. “It makes me happy to see the two of you happy.”
“Happy…” Morticia murmured, weighing
the word on her tongue. Right now, she does not know whether she likes it or
not. Especially now that Ophelia linked an arm around hers, distracting her
thoughts. She smiled sweetly at Morticia and batted her eyelids.
“What?” Morticia asked suspiciously.
She narrowed her eyes and turned to analyze her sister’s unusual behavior.
“Let’s go shopping!” Ophelia
exclaimed in a musical tone. Her eyes were giddy with unexpected excitement.
“Shopping for what?” Morticia asked.
“Clothes!”
“Clothes?” she repeated, raising an
eyebrow.
“For the fall, of course!”
“Ophelia, you and I have a very
different taste for clothes. I do not see how we could shop together.”
“Of course we can, spoilsport”
Ophelia countered. “The ghastlier you think the clothes are, the more I like
it. And it goes vice versa! We match perfectly!”
“Hmmm, you do have a point,”
Morticia replied after a moment of contemplation. “But we both cannot drive.
How are we supposed to go downtown?”
The twins thought for a moment. Then
an identical glint appeared in their eyes as they knowingly looked at each
other in agreement. They slowly turned towards their father and smiled sweetly
at him.
“Alright, alright,” he said, smiling
broadly. “I will drive you downtown.”
“Thank you, Father!”
If you are interested in reading the whole of the story, or should I say the succeeding chapters of this fanfiction (as it is not yet done), please visit this link: An Addams Family Genesis.
I am more than willing to accept your comments and suggestions. Thank you!
