So…It looks like I have to pull another Ortega on y’all. Damn.  And I really liked doing this legacy. :/

(In case you haven’t caught on, the legacy file has been corrupted and I can no longer continue to do this legacy.)

I’m not sure if I’ll do another legacy/story, but if I do, it wont be for a while.

So before I end this, you might as well see what Camille and Daizi turned out like:

C’ya…maybe.

-Imsda

The plane ride back to Sunset Valley seemed to last much longer than the 13 hours it actually was. Daizi fidgeted uncomfortably next to her sister, tapping her fingers restlessly on her armrest. Camille soon began tapping her fingers impatiently along with her sister and their fingertips thumped the chairs in sync.

Miles sat away from his coach-seated daughters in first class, isolated and heartbroken. So Aimée had loved him. Despite everything, she had. And she wanted to marry herself to him! To stick with him through the last of their years, and to pass on in his arms. Why did she never tell him? Why was she so cruel by telling him at the worst time possible? Miles didn’t want to be the least bit mad at Aimée, but it was true. It was borderline cruel of her to never confess her true feelings, because now Miles was empty. Empty, like she had beat his heart to a pulp with a crowbar and thrown it into a dumpster. Now he had that gaping hole in his chest that Aimée should have filled, but now never could.

—

Ben welcomed his family home with a weak smile and a round of hugs. “I’m so sorry about mom.” Ben muttered as he gave his “father” a comforting pat on the shoulder and a small hug.

“She’s in a better place now.” Miles whispered. Then he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out Aimée’s note. “Speaking of which…you need to read this. Now.”

Ben nodded and took the note. His watering eyes slowly scanned the page and then he looked up again.  ”I’ll get right on it. Bu-” Ben started to say something, but he paused and pursed his lips.

A few moments of awkward silence passed and then he spoke again and with his same small smile on his face. “…But first, there are some people you have to meet. Liam, you can come down now! And bring Harmony!” Ben hollered up the stairs.

Miles, Camille and Daizi all had puzzled looks on their face by the time they saw two feet land on the top of the stairs. A man started walking down with a little toddler in his arms. The man had hair the color of fire and milky white skin, whilst the toddler was his opposite: A little girl with jet-black hair, dark eyes and lightly tanned skin.

Soon the man and the girl were standing behind Ben.

“Miles, Camille, Daizi, this is…Liam. He’s my…boyfriend.” Ben cautiously introduced the other man.

Miles didn’t say a word, and neither did his daughters. Everyone was silent for a few moments to process the information.

“You’re gay?” Miles finally wheezed out. He didn’t sound particularly disapproving…just a bit surprised.

No words were needed for a response so Ben only nodded.

“How much can happen while your family is in China?” Miles blurted. “We come back and you have a boyfriend-”

“Liam and I were ‘together’ in high school. We just never told anyone until now. I love him, dad.” Ben interjected. Liam shyly smiled at the ‘I love him’.

Miles let out a ‘hrmph’ and continued his sentence. “You have a boyfriend, and…” Miles started thinking aloud. He was still seemingly unangered, which forced a small smile onto Ben’s face.

“And…” Ben urged his father to continue his train of thought. Miles was now staring hard at Harmony.

“Who’s the girl?” Daizi spat out what her father had been trying to understand.

“She’s our adopted daughter, Harmony. Say hello, Harmony.” Benjamin smiled from ear to ear.

From behind him, a tiny  voice spoke. “Hewwoh.” It was little Harmony. She was looking around the room from behind her bangs and smiling a toothless grin in Miles’ direction.

That made a genuine smile cross Miles’ face. He looked from Ben, to Liam, to Harmony and back to Ben. “I’m proud of you, Ben. Welcome to the family, Liam, Harmony.” He finally said.

“Thanks, Mr. Ward.” Liam said gratefully.

Satisfied with Miles’ satisfaction, Ben gave Harmony a small tickle under her chin and began to chuckle, “Now, about that funeral…”

—

It took mere days

]]> http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/22/chapter-2-1-facing-the-truth/feed/ 1 imsda Screenshot-153 Screenshot-154 Screenshot-163 http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/18/just-a-note/ http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/18/just-a-note/#comments Sun, 18 Jul 2010 22:18:15 +0000 imsda http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/?p=349 ]]> Howdy ‘pardners! I just wanted to drop everyone a quick note:

I’m scheduled for surgery tomorrow and I have to build a new legacy house so the next chapter might have another delay. Sorry!

Thanks for understanding.

-Imsda

Camille was doing her best to comfort her heartbroken autistic sister, but her solemn face was a shadow of what was going on inside. She was, too, heartbroken by the loss of her mother and to her it seemed like she was dancing on a fine line between sanity and, well, insanity. What would she do without her mother? Who would she look to for support? She squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to hold back tears.

She also didn’t want to open them because lying at her feet was a long lump covered by a sheet. Tracing it was a white line, identical to the lump and line next to it. Those lumps were Aimée and her killer, who took his own life after murdering his ex-lover.

There were photographers, media representatives and french police bustling in and out of the room. The photograpers and representatives kept trying to get the Baudelaire’s to open up about what happened, but it was too soon. They wouldn’t be sharing anything yet, if ever.

“Excusez-moi.” Someone muttered what sound like “excuse me.” Everyone looked up. An officer was standing before the mourning family. In his hands was his a crumpled sheet of paper. Miles turned and held out his hands and the policeman gently laid it in his palms. “Vee vfound dees on jour wivees bodee.” He said softly in a thick french accent.

Miles nodded slowly, “Merci.” and the officer wandered off. Miles looked to his daughters, then to his hands. Very carefully, precisely, he unfolded the paper and smoothed it out. There was writing on it. It was a note.

“Read it.” Daizi spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

“…Okay.” He replied after a moment’s hesitation. Then he squinted and did his best to read his wife’s last words…

Hello family. If you’re reading this, it means I, Aimée Baudelaire, am dead.

This is going to make little sense, but I know why I died: I died because I survived.

Claude Desmarais and I have, or should I say, had?, a very…complex history together. It all started when I was 17 and living in Paris. I was shopping at the local market for my ill mother when he appeared behind me. I thought it was love at first sight. Claude was handsome, charming, witty. He was everything I ever wanted. I thought meeting him was the beginning of my forever. We went on to marry.

I can’t find the right words to explain what a monster Claude turned in to after about 3 months of wedded bliss. He was abusive, to say the least. The old him certainly wasn’t “there” anymore. Instead of sleeping in his bed, I slept in a homemade dungeon in his basement. There was a hidden door, a single bed-which would be complete with a blanket and pillow only if I “behaved”-and it wasn’t only home to me, but rats, the fungus on the damp wood that the cell was made of, and many spiders. Claude would do everything from A to Z to torture me. It was physical, mental and sexual abuse. And I was, in a nutshell, his slave.

Words cannot do justice to what I went through. Words cannot describe what I managed to live through. For years in that cell I dreamed of getting out, and one day, I finally had a chance to. I mustered up what was left of my courage and strength and wrestled a knife out of my “lover’s” hands, cut the back of this neck open whilst he was doubled over in pain from my kick to the testicular region and left him there to bleed out. I went on to travel far from Paris to Sunset Valley, to start a legacy. We’ll get to that later. ;)

Little did I know, but Claude survived. And here I am. After getting on the wrong plane, foolishly leaving my room and making myself a sitting duck, I’ve fallen back into Claude’s clutches. It turns out he’s been stalking me for some time. And now he’s sworn to kill me, his ultimate revenge. So I’m sitting here, forcing myself to write this to you, and possibly awaiting my own death. I’d say goodbye, but there is so much more to say.

Ben, if he sees this: Benjamin, you have to keep everyone together. You’ve always been the mellow one in the family, which gives you the ability to be the glue that keeps all of us crazy people together . I don’t know what makes you that way, but I love it! And I love you, Benji. I also want to let you know, because I know you’ll be the one to obsess over this, that a funeral is not necessary. But if you must, let it be family-only, and in the morning, just as the sun creeps above the sky. Thank you. And don’t forget, you’ve always been my special boy and you always will be.

Daizi: My little petal! I’m going to miss you! Take care of yourself, Daizi. I don’t want you to cry over me. I’m going to be in a better place, okay? I’ll be riding on cotton candy clouds and eating my favorite crepes all day! Bye-Bye, my little petal. And never forget mommy loves you.

Camille: I love you sweetie, and I have something I have to tell you: You’re the legacy’s heiress. I decided to start a legacy after escaping from Claude, to show him that we women are not worthless and that we can outlive anyone (for 10 generations, to be exact-remember that), that we are strong, independent and faithful. That is what my, no, our, legacy was founded on… Honor, integrity and a kick-ass mansion! I was the founder, and now I’m handing down the torch to you. You get the fortune, the house, the honor, the legacy. You MUST bring in the next heiress with a mate (so hopefully you and Donovan are still going strong! ;D). Good luck, honey. I have faith in you. I love you.

Miles: I feel I have so much left to say to you. Guess what? I love you. I always have. I just never got around to telling you. And I swear, if it turns out I’m not going to die and I’m able to shred this note to bits, I’m going to marry you! You’re going to be able to keep your promise! If you accept, that is. I’m going to miss you so much. Please, take care of the family. Goodbye. I love you.

I love you all. Au revior.

-Aimée

I took in a lungful of foreign air, then spat my words out at Miles, “When the hell is the next flight out of here? I can’t be here! Take me somewhere else, anywhere else, just not here!”

A state of shock took over Miles as I belted out hateful comments. “I don’t know, the airline didn’t call me back. Calm down! Why is it so bad here, anyway? It’s just France.” Miles attempted to hold me, to tell me to calm down, but I wiggled my old body out of his arms.

“JUST France?” I snarled.

“Yeah, why do you hate it so much? And if you hate it just because we got on the wrong flight, Aimée, I’m going to flip!” Miles began to raise his voice as well.

I shook my head sadly. If only he knew. If only he knew that the worst years of my life were spent mere miles from here, in Paris. If only he knew that Claude, though it was unlikely, might still be around. If only he knew that this was his fu-, I mean, his home town. And if only he knew that when he was younger, Claude would abandon me at home to come here and visit this home town of his. What if Claude came here? I didn’t even want to think about that, but I knew that if it was even a remote possibility, I wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

I gritted my teeth at the fact that I couldn’t let Miles know about my past. I knew it would kill him to know that I was almost killed, and multiple times for that matter. So I had to do my best to hold my tongue. “I have just been to France before, and lets leave it at the fact that it wasn’t fun by any means. Please, Miles, just lets you, me and the girls go home.”

“But we want to stay in France, mommy. Can we pleeease stay?” Camille piped in from the sidelines of the verbal fight.

“Girls, did you just miss this whole conversation? We’re not staying!” I responded sharply. Camille looked down at her feet uncomfortably, her cheeks flushed rouge with embarrassment and Daizi whimpered. A few tears rolled down her face. I expected her to go on some sort of angry/sad rampage right then and there, but she kept uncharacteristically still and quiet. I sighed and looked to Miles.

“Aimée…” He, like Camille, looked at his feet. He didn’t continue his sentence. His brow furrowed, as if he was frustrated and couldn’t find the right words to speak. Then he spoke again, in the most cheerful voice anyone had heard since the conversation started. “How about this? While we wait for the airlines to call back-which should be soon-, I’ll take the girls around the city and you can stay in the room. You’ll be fine there, right?”

“I suppose.” I gave up. I didn’t feel like fighting anymore. I was being irrational; Claude was a heavy drinker and he had smoked almost every day. He probably died years ago, and why would he be right here, right now of all places to be of all days?

“Then it’s settled. Girls, go take your bags to your room and be downstairs in the kitchen an hour. Aimée, I’ll help you take the bags to our room.” Miles nodded, satisfied. And that was the end of that.

—

I was stupid. Why had I let them go out on the town? I was freaking out back in my room, wondering if anything bad had happened to them. I had to go check. I just had to. But my normal clothes were stopping me as I began to head for the door. Without a dress on, in this town, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Every elder female I’d seen on my way here wore a very traditional, long dress and their hair was held up in a long ponytail. The last thing I wanted right now was to be a dead giveaway to Claude, if he was here. I know, it was unlikely, but I just wasn’t in the state of mind to completely realize that.

When I left my room, I was wearing a long, rather matronly dress and my hair was tied up into a ponytail. My eyes scanned the sidewalks for Miles and my daughters as I cautiously made my way down the street into the town center, where I expected my family’d be. But nada. They were nowhere to be found. I was about to go back to my room and finish out my waiting for them there,  but my stomach began to growl as I passed the local café. I would have kept going, but the smell of crepes drew me in. And against my better judgement, I ended up ordering some of those delicious, scrumptious french delicacies. Yum…

My last bite had just entered my mouth when an old man entered the eatery. He approached the woman at the register and spoke in a cool, nonchalant tone. “So what’s your specialty today, baby?” He leaned on the counter.

The young woman chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Claude. Always the charmer. Today the café‘s specialty is…” Her voice trailed off and out of my thoughts, as I her conversation with the man became nothing but a bug on the windshield of my life; I was focused on something bigger now.

HOLE.

EE.

SHIT.

The combination of  the words”Claude” and “charmer” used in the same sentence could only mean one thing.

HE was here.

Right now.

Five feet away from me.

My reaction was practically instinctual: I dropped my fork and ran the hell out of there! I made a scene, sure, but I wanted to get as far away from there as possible. I ran out and around the back of the café, and I wound up in a maze of buildings.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Claude’s voice asked from behind me. I was facing a wall. I looked to my left, then to my right. I had not only wound up in a maze, but I had hit a dead end.

I forced myself to turn around, as continuously facing the wall wasn’t going to do my any good. Claude’s icy  blue eyes scanned me as I now faced him. A knowing, yet menacing smile crept up on his face and his eyes were piercing. “Aimée. Long time no see. I knew we’d meet again.” His smile fell and he started coming towards me. My heart beat frantically and my vision began to blur as he neared. Then everything was black.

—

When I woke up, I was in a small room. It had a desk, some paper, pencils, a mirror. It also had a…board. With pictures on it. Like something a detective would use. Slowly, I approached it. It had maps, pictures and documents regarding…Sunset Valley on it. And, holy crap, was that a picture of my house? And Camille and Daizi were playing on the front lawn! What was this?

“What are you doing?” Someone snarled from behind me.

I swiveled around in surprise. It was Claude. I shook my head in disgust. “What is this?” I pointed to his little…I don’t even know what to call it.

Claude simpered, but then scowled. “I’ve been watching you, Aimée. You didn’t really think you’d be able to rid of me so easily all those years ago, did you?” His voice was grim, matching his sinister expression.

“I thought I killed you! You should have died that night!” I shot back. Claude should be in Paris, a rotting corpse in a basement. He shouldn’t be here, terrorizing me.

“Well obviously you didn’t! And I was the one who should have killed you. You didn’t obey me! You were a disrespectful little slut!” Claude yelled back. Was he bickering with me? Seriously?

“No, Claude. We just should never have met in the first place.” I muttered, filled with remorse. But suddenly, I didn’t loathe the day I first met Claude. Because if I hadn’t, he’d have gone on and done what he did to me to some poor other girl. I’m sure he did after I got away, but still. If I had never met him, one more life would probably have been lost.

The two of us stayed silent for a few minutes. As I looked at Claude and glanced around the small room, the severity of my situation finally sank in. I had no idea where I was, what time it was, and I was trapped with a man who used to entertain the idea of killing me.

“What are you going to do to me?” I finally asked, my voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

Claude had been looking at his feet, but now he looked at me with those icy blue eyes of his. The corners of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed. He took a step towards me and bent over and whispered lightly into my ear, ”Aimée Baudelaire, I am going to kill you like I should have all those years ago.”

Butterflies filled my stomach and I began to let out a blood-curdling scream. Then, before I could empty my lungful of air into my shriek, Claude jumped on me.

I bit, I scratched, I clawed, I kicked. I was fighting for my life. But it was no use, Claude was so much stronger, faster, even though he was old, just like me. He cut me, punched me, he went so far as to rip out chunks of my hair. Then…it stopped. I was bleeding, bruised, but not dead. I crumpled into a ball on the floor and looked up at my former lover. I didn’t want to die, but it seemed like I had lost the fight. How was he going to kill me, now? Was he going to leave me here, to bleed out or to starve to death? Or was he going to make it quick and slit my throat? Or was he going to do what he did best and stab me? I felt nauseous thinking about what he might do to me. And then I thought about after I was dead, because surely I was going to perish that night. Would my family ever find me? Would they ever get closure? What about the legacy? I had already chosen Camille as my heiress, because Daizi wasn’t capable with her disability. But Camille didn’t know. She had no idea that she was part of a legacy, or the heiress of it, for that matter.

I looked to Claude. “What now?” I managed to wheeze out. I was already dancing on the fine line between life and death, but if he was going to leave me here to die, he’d have done so already. He was still there, watching me with a smile on his face. He wasn’t done yet.

“I’m going to leave you to suffer for a few minutes, let the taste of what you’ve just been through marinate. It hurts, doesn’t it? Well, don’t think it can’t get any worse. It can. And you’ll find out soon. Goodbye…for now. And don’t die yet, okay?” Claude nodded. Then, quietly, he left the room.

Silence.

I looked around the room. What was I going to do now? Claude was going to kill me. I didn’t want to die, but I had no chance of surviving now. He was too strong, too powerful. I forced myself up onto broken legs and rubbed my sore, cut arm. Tears welled up in my eyes and flowed down onto my face. There was so much I had left unsaid…so many open ends… And being dead wasn’t going to help that. I had to find some sort of way to leave a message to my loved ones. I didn’t know how they’d get it, but I wouldn’t let myself die without telling Miles that I loved him, telling Camille she was heiress, and telling everyone exactly how and why I died.

Through blurry, teary-eyed vision I saw the pens and paper that I noticed when I first woke up. That was all I needed- I could write a note.

I sat down immediately and started writing, saying everything I needed to. This had to explain everything, and I had no time to waste. Claude could come back at any moment. I continued to sob as I vented all of my feelings into my note. I was going to miss my family.

As I wrote, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like death, with my hair torn out and bloody, my lip busted and cuts and bruises everywhere. My appearance just proved the truth: Claude was a monster. He was a sad, insane man. I wanted to pity him, pity the fact that he thinks doing the things he did to me was okay, but hatred was the only emotion I had for him in my mind.

I finished my note just as Claude reentered the room. Who knows how long he’d been gone, but it was just enough time for me to tie up my loose ends. Before he could spot my note, I shoved it into my shirt. If someone found my body, hopefully they’d find the note as well.

I bit my lip as Claude approached me and did my best to hold back tears. I didn’t want to show weakness in front of him.

Claude said nothing, did nothing, at first. He just held my gaze, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. It was working. I shrugged uneasily. Then Claude cracked his bare knuckles and whispered, “Goodbye, Aimée Baudelaire.” And before I could react, he grabbed the back of my neck and slammed my temple against the corner of his desk.

I envied everyone in the Champs Les Sims at that moment. They were off drinking wine, making love, looking up to the stars.

Whilst I, instead, stared up at the Grim Reaper.

Au revoir.

]]> http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/17/chapter-1-8-love-letter-pt-1-2/feed/ 10 imsda w-550h-413-1437141 Screenshot-4 Screenshot-12 Screenshot-22 Screenshot-26 Screenshot-34 Screenshot-37 Screenshot-46 Screenshot-50 Screenshot-90 Screenshot-75 Screenshot-79 Screenshot-86 Screenshot-97 w-550h-413-1441078 Screenshot-111 http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/12/chapter-1-7-conflict/ http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/2010/07/12/chapter-1-7-conflict/#comments Mon, 12 Jul 2010 17:49:18 +0000 imsda http://thebaudelairelegacy.wordpress.com/?p=248 ]]> Aimée

“Ben! Ben! Where’d you put the balloons?! The guests are going to be here any second and the girls aren’t going to set up the party themselves!” I hollered down the halls. My eyes were searching frantically for the two bouquets of balloons that my son had created earlier.“They’re by the treadmills.” Ben spoke. I turned my head and saw Benjamin rounding a corner and coming slowly towards me.

“…Oh.” Of course they were in the one place I didn’t check. “Okay. How about you go get those set up and I set the cakes up?”

“Cool.” My son nodded then wandered off.

“Hurry!” I called after him. I walked  hurriedly (I can never manage to run in heels) into the kitchen and snatched the two tiny cakes out of the fridge. I rummaged around some cabinets to find candles. As I pulled the box of “13″ candles out, something small, shiny and silver fell down onto the counter after it. It bounced off the granite and onto my foot. I set the candles down and bent down to pick whatever it was up.

My fingers traced the shell of…Miles’ cell phone. Daizi must’ve hidden it there after Miles left. Miles singlehandedly crushed the girls and myself when he disappeared again. I loved Miles, but he was cruel for disappearing so abruptly (and for a year, at that). I didn’t want to kick him out if he ever came back, but I wasn’t going to let this happen again. Without a second thought I dropped his phone into the garbage can like it was a smelly diaper, and it might as well have been. As I thought more about Miles missing his girls’ birthday, I felt tears well up in my eyes. It was so uncalled for. When he was home, he was the perfect father to his children, but when it was their birthday’s, he was just never there.

I do hope he’s safe, though. Just because he was gone didn’t mean he was out and about with some other girl (though we weren’t together to begin with). He might be hurt. Or dead. But he was a cop, and one in Sunset Valley of all places. It was peaceful here for the most part, and Miles never went out of town. He couldn’t be hurt, could he?

“And you thought I was going to take long. C’mon, I’ll help with those.” Ben spoke up suddenly from behind me.

I sucked in a long breath, shedding all thoughts of Miles from my mind. Then I spoke with my best fake smile plastered on my face. “Sure.” I handed him one cake. And he was just in time to help me, too, because as we started walking out back, the girls ran downstairs to greet the first friend of theirs to ring the doorbell.

“Party time!” Daizi hollered happily.

My heart warmed and a delighted smile grew on my face when I saw my daughters age into truly beautiful teens. Camille looked just like me, with my dark red hair and brown eyes, but she had some of her father in her, with his nose and skin. Daizi, on the other hand, was only her father.  She had his wide eyes, jet black hair and his exact shade of tan skin. And having a slight case of autism certainly didn’t in her way when she selected her outfits and hairstyle: She cut her hair into a short, Katie Holmes-style bob and chose a very in-style shirtdress to wear.

Before I could go congradulate my daughters on aging so well, I felt a tingling sensation in the tip of my fingers. It was then that I remembered it was my birthday, too! I ran into a corner that was out of the view of guests before I could morph into an elder. As soon as my feet stopped moving, I squeezed my eyes shut and when I reopened them, my bones ached and I had a few more wrinkles. I frowned, but as I looked closer at myself, I smiled. “Hey! I look pretty damn good for an old lady!”

“That you do, mom.” I cocked my head and saw Daizi standing and smiling in front of me, Camille was at her heels, stifling a giggle.

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, slightly embarrassed that they overheard me talking to myself. “And you girls look stunning as well!” I smiled.

“Thanks.” Camille answered. Now Daizi was at her sister’s heels, nodding her head.

“Welcome…Happy birthday to…us, I guess.” I chuckled.

—

Miles

My heart thumped in my chest as I silently pushed the front door open. Very slowly, very carefully, I crept into the house. One foot after the other. I was careful not to make any floorboards creak, not to make even the slightest thump with my shoes. Aimée had to see me first, since there was no way she’d be fine with my “disappearance”. I knew better than that. I was going to have some sort of fight or some sort of consequence, and if my girls got their hopes up and saw me before their mother did, I’d be even crueler than I already have been.

Now, where is Aimée? I rounded a corner, and thankfully, there she was, rereading The Count of Monte Cristo. And she was all alone.

It was time to reveal myself. Funny, I can be around notoriously deadly mobsters in anywhere from Chicago to Russia with my life at stake and not break a sweat, but when I knew Aimée was going to be mad at me, I got nervous butterflies in my stomach (or the manlier version – a swarm of locusts).

So 1.

2.

3.

I forced myself to tap my foot on the ground, my eyes set nervously on Aimée. She looked up from her book and scanned me with her loving brown eyes. She was older. But no shit, I’ve been gone for a year. Of course Aimeé would be older. Just like me.

Aimeé’s peaceful, beautiful old face twisted at the sight of me. Her smile was a grimace, her weathered fingers rolled up and made two fists. Her eyes watched me carefully, then they lit up as if someone poured gasoline. She dropped her book.

“Get out of my house.” My love growled. She gently set her book down and rose from her chair.

“I can explain.” I said.

Aimée let out a small, unsettling laugh. “The explaining ship has sailed, Miles. It sailed twelve. Fucking. Months. Ago. Now get out of my house.”

“Aimee, I’m sorry-”

“SORRY? YOU’RE SORRY?! You broke the girls’ hearts when you left! They cried for days on end, and there was nothing I could do about that! It nearly killed me to get them happy again. I can’t let you do that again.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. Leave.”

I sighed. If only I could tell her the truth… but I guess that’s part of the contract when you’re a spy; losing your personal life.  It’s a good thing I retired. Now I just needed to gain my personal life back, like I came here to do. “Aimée, I need you to trust me right now. I’ve been away, and now what I’ve had to deal with is done. I can stay now. Forever. Please, please trust me.” I pleaded, revealing as much as I could bring myself to. And it was true, I had to kill a Russian mob boss, and now he and the majority of his followers were dead. My job as a Secret Agent was finished.

Aimée bit her thin, wrinkled lip. “What is done now?”

“I can’t say.”

“If you can’t say then how can I trust you? Miles, you blew a hole in the lives of everyone in this house! I’m not going to let you back in on just ‘trust me’.”

“But I need you to because I can’t tell you!” I was practically on my knees, begging her. I knew if I was going to get back into this house, my way with words alone wasn’t going to be enough. I needed to show her something that would explain everything and shut her up at the same time. I took a moment to think as Aimée watched me carefully. Finally, I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out a single slip of paper. Silently I handed passed it into Aimée’s hands.

“What is thi-”

“Just look it over.” I nodded.

Aimée pursed her lips and carefully read over the paper. It was a death certificate, complete with a picture and even the CIA’s mini-biography of Vladimir Butyrskaya, the former head the Russian mafia. I chose that paper because I killed that man, and at the bottom of the certificate, it said so. It probably wasn’t the safest thing that my name was on that paper, but Aimée would hopefully understand.

“I don’t understand….You killed him?” Aimée managed to whisper, handing the paper back to me.

I put it back in my pocket. “I had to. It was my job. He was tied to a lot of bad people and did bad things, and now we don’t have to be so concerned about that.”

“Who was he tied to? I don’t understand.”

“He was head of the Russian mafia and he had a close alliance with a 30-year old psychopathic mass-murder named Jezebel Keller. The more we isolate her and Vladimir’s followers, the sooner we can put an end to them. They are why I was gone. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I wont.” Aimée instantly believed me. Sure, I pretty much blew my whole cover, but I needed to if I wanted to get my family back. “Welcome home.” And with those two words that I had been desperately wanting to hear, Aimée welcomed me back into home with a warm embrace.

I know the new chapter isn’t up yet, but I promise, it’s in the works. And to prove it to you, I’m going to give you a taste of the next chapter (which I’ll have up tomorrow night at the latest).

So here, my dears, are some snippets:

Miles

…She looked up from her book and scanned me with her loving brown eyes. She was older. But no shit, I’ve been gone for a year. Of course Aimeé would be older. Just like me.

Aimeé’s peaceful, beautiful old face twisted at the sight of me. Her smile was a grimace, her weathered fingers rolled up and made two fists. Her eyes watched me carefully, then they lit up as if someone poured gasoline. She dropped her book.

“Get out of my house.” My love growled. She gently set her book down and rose from her chair.

“I can explain.” I said.

Aimée let out a small, unsettling laugh. “The explaining ship has sailed, Miles. It sailed twelve. Fucking. Months. Ago. Now get out of my house.”

“Aimee, I’m sorry-”

“SORRY? YOU’RE SORRY?! You broke the girls’ hearts when you left! They cried for days on end, and there was nothing I could do about that! It nearly killed me to get them happy again. I can’t let you do that again.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. Leave.”

To be revealed…

“I love you so much…will you marry me?” I finally spat the words I’ve been thinking of for so long out.

Sadly, that’s all I can put out for now. Stay tuned for the full chapter!

Sadly I have not been successful in solving my CC woes, but I’ve decided that I can try again some other time as it might just be the version of mono/s3pe that I’m working with that causes my problem.

So…I’m keeping the combined packages that work and keeping my hair packages seperate for the time being, which, as of yesterday, means my game is up and running and a new chapter is in the works!

Stay tuned – I’ll try to have it up around Friday, give or take a few days.

-Imsda

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that my last post took about a week to post and the next is still unposted. Actually, I haven’t even had the chance to start it. My game has been having some CC issues: I’ve recently figured out how to combine your .package files on Mac computers, and it’s working wonderfully…except for the hair file. Everything else (makeup, clothes, etc.) shows up in CAS but my hair doesn’t. I’ve checked for conflicting .package files (one file in not only the hair .package, but already packaged in another as well) multiple times and found a few, but even after re-compressing, the hair still doesn’t show in CAS (as in, the files don’t even show under the “hair” tab) so until I can figure out the issue, the next chapter wont be up for some time. :(

If you have any ideas as to why this could possibly happen, please comment. Otherwise, keep checking for the next chapter and tell your friends about the Baudelaire legacy!

-Imsda

I used to like school. Now I hated it. It wasn’t because I was gay and still in the closet…Mr. Morrison was to blame.It all started when Ms. Wu, the art teacher at my high school had to take a maternity leave to care for her new baby. And In came Mr. Morrison, her replacement, our substitute teacher. At first glance, he was covered in tattoos, dried clay, and he never seemed to look completely clean. But I did a double-take and saw his sparkling blue eyes, tan skin and luscious copper hair. I doted on his every word…and he seemed to dote on mine.

At first I thought it was cool that a teacher would actually listen to what I said, that I wasn’t “just another student”. Art became my favourite class, mainly because I knew I could say something and it’d be heard. I was comfortable.

But sadly, my good mood in what had been Ms. Wu’s class quickly went downhill. Mr. Morrison went from a cool, down-to-earth teacher to a creepy teacher. He doted on my every word with intrigue in his eyes and he’d wink. Later he’d approach me, he’d come very close, he’d stare at me, wink again. On occasion he’d brush against me with a smile on his face. And sometimes, after class, he’d call me in and ask me about my life, about my friends and on one particular day…the plans I had for that night.

“What?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

Mr. Morrison shrugged. “I was just wondering if you’d like to do something with me.”

That’s so, soooo illegal. Don’t say you’ll go! I thought disgustedly. Just because I was gay didn’t mean I was going to hang out with my handsome, male teacher. Being around him made me feel slimy. “I-I have to go.” I stuttered and bolted out of the room. Where was I headed? The principals office. For my sake and possibly other students’ sake, I had to rat this man out and get him fired.

“So he asked you out on a…date?” Principal Witherspoon asked. He pursed his lips as he awaited my answer.

“Yes.” I nodded simply.

“This is a very serious accusation, Ben. You know that, right?”

“I do. I wouldn’t be here if this didn’t really happen.” I admitted, squirming uncomfortably in my chair.

“Alright. You can go now, I’ll handle this.” The principal nodded. I got up and abandoned his office, but I didn’t go back to class. I needed to get out of here, I needed to clear my head.

I found a bench outside the school and lazily sat on it, my head in my hands.  Three hours passed and soon I heard footsteps leaving the school. I peeked through my fingers and saw Mr. Morrison exiting the school. I let out a sigh and stood. I couldn’t be near that man. But my teacher heard me and he turned around.

“Ben!” He hollered after me.

Another sigh.

“Ben! Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked firmly.

My third sigh. “Sure.” I muttered, slowly walking to him. “I’m not sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be. I was…inappropriate, to say the least. I should have just come out with it. You were smart to go to the principal.” Mr. Morrison said.

I looked up at him. “Come out with what?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Benjamin, there’s no easy way to say this, but I’m your father.”

I gasped. “Seriously?” I had grown up my whole life without knowing my true father. I had never given it much thought, especially since Miles was around. And I knew my mother didn’t tell me about him for a reason, so I didn’t want to be nosy.

Mr. Morrison nodded.

“Wait…How do you know?”

“Because you’re the spitting image of me as a teenager, just with your mom’s hair color.” Dad chuckled.

“Are you mad at mom?” I asked.

“A bit; I didn’t know you even existed until I started teaching here. But she probably just wanted the best for you, after all, I was an ass to her. So she doesn’t need to know we know, okay?” Dad shrugged. “Are you mad?”

“I don’t think so. You can’t be mad about what you don’t know.” I winked.

Dad smiled. Quickly, he bent over and hugged me. “I should go now. Take care, Ben.” He backed up.

“Wait, did you get fired?” I asked as my father began to walk off.

“Yes.” He said sadly. Then he was gone.

“Uh, Ben, why did you just hug Mr. Morrison?” I heard a voice ask from behind me. I turned to see my best friend, Caleb, and his twin sister, Marielle, behind me.

“Long story.” I muttered, giving a weak smile.

“…okay.” Marielle said weirdly.

“You sure?” Caleb asked.

“Positive.” I sighed. I laughed a little. Marielle laughed along. Caleb just looked at the two of us like we were crazy.

“Whatever you say. Just be careful, I heard he got fired for asking a student out.” Caleb nodded knowingly.

“I heard he was the father of the kid?” I said, wanting to see what rumors Caleb would let slip. Damn, things got around fast at my school.

“Woah, seriously? I haven’t heard that one yet. Explain, please, dude?” Caleb asked.

I sighed and began. As I explained, I couldn’t help but notice Marielle doted on my every word, even winked at me a few times. What was she getting at? What was she doing?

For the next week, Merielle practically stalked me. She’d walk me to classes, call me to hang out after school, all that junk. It was like I was her bffl or something. Honestly! And again and again, I asked myself, what was she doing?

“Hey Ben.” Merielle winked at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” I replied.

“Do you wanna go out?” She asked quickly. A crowd began to gather around us, every onlooker anticipating my reaction. I stared mindlessly at her. How did I not catch on? I was gay, in the closet. She didn’t know I was. She liked me, or, at least thought I was hot. Damn. What a mess.

“Ben? Ben!” Merielle snapped her fingers in front of my face, breaking my thoughtful trance. “Answer please?”

“Uh…Uh…” I muttered. Just say no! It’s not that hard, Ben. But be careful. I scolded myself. But before I could hold my tongue and speak carefully, I blurted, in front of half the school, “No, Merielle, I’m gay.”

Gasps filled the air around me. Merielle’s jaw dropped. I looked around helplessly.

I guess I was “out”.

Oops.