Chap. 9.2 - What About Yesterday
Published Jan 3, 2013

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Page 1 / 49

(Cue transmission play back):

"H-hello? Any-anybody out there? I think my mic's off--hey, is my mic off? *2 second long pause* No? It's not--well, if you're suuureee. Okay, he's sure.

So, hello to all those reading this! Here is pt. 2 of chapter 9 that I promised. Sorry for the delay! Happy New Year!"

(End transmission playback).

(Cue transmission play back):

"H-hello? Any-anybody out there? I think my mic's off--hey, is my mic off? *2 second long pause* No? It's not--well, if you're suuureee. Okay, he's sure.

So, hello to all those reading this! Here is pt. 2 of chapter 9 that I promised. Sorry for the delay! Happy New Year!"

(End transmission playback).
"The Leader of the Free Moonlight Falls, an (not so) Empty House, and a Belated Birthday" “I’m the lead of the free world—err, at least the leader of the free Moonlight Falls.”

“Yes, you’ve said that already; look, I understand you’re a busy person but I’d really like to unpack. Really.”
“Sure thing, cuz. My lunch breaks at two!”

“But it’s only TEN!”
“Sorry about Joseph, Marisa. He can get a little one-sided—he’s a self-proclaimed workaholic; I think that’s part of the reason why the people love him.” “Of course.” But the words sounded fake to her own ears.

However, Ginny’s smile was perpetual.
Marisa could feel the rolling in her stomach stop and knots in her back relaxing, “Thanks.”

The word seemed so small, so infinitesimal against all the things this family was giving to her, but it was all Marisa had.
And it seemed to be just enough: “Sweetheart, you’re family—and this is the least we can do. Your room’s upstairs. Third story: All the way up—the first door you see.” I’m tired of all this idling—we need to get to my house.” “We've only been here for...fourteen hours, besides: shouldn’t that place be foreclosed…or something.” Marisa garbled through her mouthful of toothpaste. Or something. I own that lot and that house—every blade of grass, every squeaky board.” The ghost of her grandmother returned while Marisa exited the bathroom. Placing herself on the bed, Marisa was overcome by a yawn but managed to shake her head—though not in disagreement: “Okay, hand over the keys, then.”
Here, Grandma Louise merely laughed.
“I don’t think ‘sorry, Judge, but the ghost of my dead grandmother told me to do it’ will hold up in court.”

“Hush up and start picking the lock, dear.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
The fireplace was ablaze and the interior was oddly pristine for a place that had been vacated for four years. Suddenly, from nowhere—upstairs: the distinctive click as a door shut. “Oh, crap.” Marisa froze, “We’re not alone.” By the time the person’s feet had touched the bottom step Marisa was seriously questioning why she hadn’t bolted.

Louise? ” The baritone voice called nonchalantly, “I wondered when you’d be back. Who’s this?”
A sly grin decorated her face, “You don’t recognize each other.”

“No.” They assured in chorus.

She dithered happily, “This only makes it sweeter.”
“Louise, are you trying to set me up with your…friend…” He paused—can ghosts even have friends? You’re-the-one-half-naked-in-my-living-room; besides, she’s my granddaughter!” The ghost declared indignantly.

Marisa felt obliged to look away, busing herself with the task of warming her hands.
“Oh!” He said suddenly, cheeks becoming pink—“I was, uh, making-trying to make this Hot and Sour Soup my mom made all the time when I was a kid; she was a brilliant chef, y’know… It-uh-yeah—didn’t go so well…” Then he realized something, his cheeks grew even redder—“Granddaughter?” Marisa nodded absently: she used to know someone whose mom could whip up a mean cherry cobbler.

They glanced at each other and suddenly:

“You’ve changed!”

You’ve changed!” Marisa tried to ignore the body he hadn’t had when he was sixteen. “A…lot.”
He laughed and hugged her to him.

“It’s not that I’m not…enjoying this reunion, but what are you doing here, as in my grandmother’s supposedly abandoned house?”
“Now, that’s a long story, Marzipan.” He said, rubbing his hands together almost gleefully. “Uh, fine: be that way then—Pumpkin Pie.”

“Oh!” He staggered backwards, clutching at his heart: “You wound me!”
It was just like old times. Not to interrupt,” The ghost lied. “But I’ve brought Marisa here to ask you a very important question.” “Whatever it is ma’am, the answer is yes—Marzipan was my salvation during those adolescent summers. And I don’t just mean Marisa.” He smacked his fingers against his mouth in bon appétit gesture. Marisa couldn’t help but to smile at her Grandmother’s annoyed expression: “What’s this question I’m supposed to ask?” Will you train her, Theo—you’re a very skilled alchemist.” “What—but—I mean I’m no witch. Surely, she needs someone like you to—” I’m dead.” Rather abruptly, “Dead things do not posses magic.” “Oh. I-right.” But Marisa was too shocked to be quiet in the wake of her grandmother’s desolation: “Him—Theo—Pumpkin Pie? My teacher? Of magic?”

And with that her grandmother disappeared.

“I don’t care what anyone says, that Louise definitely has a flair for anticlimactic entrances and departures.” Theo mumbled wistfully.
Marisa rolled her eyes, and changed the subject: “You do still remember you’re shirtless—and pants-less, for that matter: go put some clothes on.”

“Ah…yes.” And he ran back up the stairs, towel flapping, and cheeks red once again.
Marisa merely smiled and meandered over to the couch. She sank into the soft cushions thankfully and blinked a couple of times, then to no one but herself she mumbled the words, “I’m so glad to be back home.” Then she shook her head, this place isn’t home . But Moonlight Falls, it seemed, was the closest she was going to get for the moment. Abruptly, Marisa recalled an argument her and her Grandmother Louise had and she glanced skeptically—fearfully around the dark room. Luna!” She jumped at the cat's sudden arrival— —Marisa hit the floor with a muted thud then barked, “How many times do I have to tell you—do NOT sneak up on me like that!”

The cat gave a plaintive, yet mocking meow and laid her head back down on the couch.
“Happy Birthday!”

Marisa blinked, then once more. “What—my birthday was two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, we know.” Joseph explained, “But we figured we have some birthdays to make up for. We got you a present!”
Despite herself: “Really?” Then, “I mean, you shouldn’t have. If you want you can take it back—really, there’s no need to give me anything. You’re already doing more than—taking me in and everything.” Joseph looked momentarily disappointed, “Well, in that case we’re just going to—have to give it to you anyway…I heard you were an esteemed photographer from Aunt Marce—your mom. Again, I’m—so, so very sorry, Marisa, for your loss.” Marisa smiled her thanks at little Gwen, then: “It’s okay, Joseph, don’t beat yourself up about it.” “Okay, everybody say—cheese, queso, fromage!” So, there you have it: Chapter 9.2.

What did ya think? -Hope You Enjoyed!

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