Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 26 2011, 17:34:52 UTC
Chapter One
It should have been simple to return. Hide in the mother’s handbag, wait until she reached work, then sneak free to spend the night at Sunnyside and talk to his friends again. Nothing more complicated than any of the messes that he had found himself in before, that was certain. And yet it was with trepidation that Woody nestled into the depths of Mrs. Anderson’s handbag, waiting as she dropped off Bonnie at kindergarten before continuing on to work, changing from the CD of children’s songs to the radio as she did so. Woody gritted his teeth through her muted complaints about traffic jams, then huddled as deep down as he could when the bag was lifted up and he felt it swung over a shoulder.
Then it was a matter of waiting, fidgeting, feeling something that he supposed was close to nauseous until he was able to peep out of the bags and see the reception area clear. Gritting his teeth, Woody hopped out of the bag and slipped into the back of the desk, waiting for night to fall by curling up and listening to the laughter and shouting of the children in the distance. Surely what had happened to Hamm had to be a mistake, an accident. His hands curled into a fist at the thought of his old friend, and fire settled in Woody’s eyes again as he waited for the dark to come.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, night came. Woody slipped out from his hiding place and crawled up the bookcase into the false ceiling. The building had gone quiet, eerily quiet for one which he knew had so many toys, and he did not want to draw attention to himself by opening doors at this time of night.
He picked his way over the creaking polystyrene boards, through the tangle of wires and tubes, occasionally lifting the edge of one to peer beneath. All that he could see was darkness, darkness in every room, and confusion settled more and more firmly into his features as he finally found the room where he had left his friends before, with the built castle and shelves and shelves of toys, and slipped out onto the top of one of the bookshelves there.
Silence. Woody paused, looking around him. It was difficult to see in the gloom, the night sky outside clouded and only the vague light of one torch visible through the window. Then a glimmer caught his attention, and he craned his neck to see a glow-worm toy nestled at the foot of one of the sets of shelves, silhouetted figures around him. His heart gave a leap as he recognised the distinctive outstretched wings of Buzz Lightyear, walking back and forth with his arms loosely linked behind his back, and Woody quickly began to scramble down the bookcase.
He slipped from part way down and tumbled to the floor with a soft clatter. Breathing curses, Woody was pulling himself to his feet as a red ‘laser’ was centred on his chest, glinting off his badge. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“Cool it, Buzz,” he hissed, swatting at the red dot as if to wave it away. Buzz came towards him, framed by the light of the glow-worm, then stopped as he came close enough for the two toys to see each other’s faces. Buzz’s helmet was lowered, a deep scratch running down one side of his face and blurring out one eye; his expression softened but fell as he caught sight of Woody.
“You should not have returned, Woody,” he said softly.
Woody looked at him in horror. “Buzz, what do you-”
He got no further, throwing up one arm to cover his face as a bright torch was shone into his face. Buzz started to protest, but was cut off by something that Woody could not see as his eyes tried to adjust. Finally the light was turned away from him, and he looked up to see the yellow dump truck, backed towards him. His eyes travelled slowly upwards, past brown boots, cow-hide chaps, a white blouse. Finally he reached the figure’s face, surrounded by red hair cut above the shoulder, the colour worn from her cheeks to reveal pallour beneath.
Re: Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 26 2011, 17:36:39 UTC
“Jessie!” He cried, before he could stop himself. He ran towards the dump truck, about to jump up onto it, when a jointed plastic snake spun itself around him and held him tightly in place. “Hey, let go!” Woody tried to squirm loose, turning to glare at the snake, but received a violent hiss in return and was shocked into stillness. Turning back to Jessie, he caught her eyes, and was horrified by the stillness that he saw there. As if the light had gone out of her as well. “Jessie?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Buzz, who was still standing with pain written on his face, shoulders slumped. A flicker of her hand, and he crossed to stand in front of her, dropping to one knee. Her eyes returned to Woody, green and glassy, as she spoke in a cold, flat voice quite unlike what he remembered.
“Where did you find the intruder, Buzz?”
“Jessie, please,” Buzz began, but she snapped her fingers and he flinched. “I found Woody here,” he said.
“He is not Woody. Woody is dead. You know this.”
“Hey, wait!” Woody protested. “I’m not dead. I’m-”
“Silence.” It was not a shout, not a cry, simply a word that cut his voice from his mouth and left him looking helplessly up at the cowgirl standing, hands on her hips, before him. “How long has he been here?”
“Only a moment. Let him go, now, please.”
“Buzz, what-”
“Silence.” Her voice was harder this time, her eyes fixed on him. “Intruders are not to be tolerated. Take him to the lockdown.”
Buzz stayed kneeling for a moment, then in a strained voice he said, “Yes, Jessie,” and rose to his feet. Woody looked at him speechlessly as the space ranger walked over, took hold of his once-friend’s arm, and steered him away towards one of the dark corners of the room. He didn’t glow the way he used to. Woody went to turn, to look as the sound of the dump truck moving again caught his attention, but Buzz said softly: “Don’t look back, cowboy.”
“What is going on?” hissed Woody as they reached a door in the corner of the room. Buzz reached up and rapped a short pattern; the handled turned, a pair of eyes peered round, then the door was pulled slowly open and Woody felt himself being dragged inside. “Buzz, what-”
“Please, Woody, don’t ask,” he replied dully. He met Woody’s eyes just for a moment, then turned into the dark of the cupboard to call: “Barbie, you know what to do.”
Then before Woody could say anything more, Buzz released him and left the cupboard, closing the door behind him. Darkness fell, and for the first time Woody began to feel truly afraid.
Re: Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 26 2011, 23:12:30 UTC
This is freaking brilliant. It just... pushes all my buttons in all the right ways. I especially love how creepy and chilling it is, I can't wait to see where it goes.
Re: Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 00:39:22 UTC
OP here. OMG!!! Someone filled this!! Thank yooooouuuu! :) So far this is better than what I pictured and you cut her hair the same length I imagined. Yay! I'm loving it so much so far. So dark and mysterious, can't wait for the rest of it. Please continue soon! Thanks again! :D
Re: Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 01:23:39 UTC
OP here. Thank yooooouuuuu so much!! I never thought this would be filled. But this is amazing, so dark and mysterious. Much better than what I pictured and Jessie's hair is the length I imagined too. I cannot wait until the next parts. Thank you again! Continue soon!
Re: Chapter One {Part 1/2}
anonymous
April 27 2011, 08:03:48 UTC
^^ Thank you! Your description of Jessie with the cut hair just caught my attention like woah and I think that's what got me totally hooked on this, lol! Hopefully this will continue at a steady pace now! I'm just glad that you liked it!
It should have been simple to return. Hide in the mother’s handbag, wait until she reached work, then sneak free to spend the night at Sunnyside and talk to his friends again. Nothing more complicated than any of the messes that he had found himself in before, that was certain. And yet it was with trepidation that Woody nestled into the depths of Mrs. Anderson’s handbag, waiting as she dropped off Bonnie at kindergarten before continuing on to work, changing from the CD of children’s songs to the radio as she did so. Woody gritted his teeth through her muted complaints about traffic jams, then huddled as deep down as he could when the bag was lifted up and he felt it swung over a shoulder.
Then it was a matter of waiting, fidgeting, feeling something that he supposed was close to nauseous until he was able to peep out of the bags and see the reception area clear. Gritting his teeth, Woody hopped out of the bag and slipped into the back of the desk, waiting for night to fall by curling up and listening to the laughter and shouting of the children in the distance. Surely what had happened to Hamm had to be a mistake, an accident. His hands curled into a fist at the thought of his old friend, and fire settled in Woody’s eyes again as he waited for the dark to come.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, night came. Woody slipped out from his hiding place and crawled up the bookcase into the false ceiling. The building had gone quiet, eerily quiet for one which he knew had so many toys, and he did not want to draw attention to himself by opening doors at this time of night.
He picked his way over the creaking polystyrene boards, through the tangle of wires and tubes, occasionally lifting the edge of one to peer beneath. All that he could see was darkness, darkness in every room, and confusion settled more and more firmly into his features as he finally found the room where he had left his friends before, with the built castle and shelves and shelves of toys, and slipped out onto the top of one of the bookshelves there.
Silence. Woody paused, looking around him. It was difficult to see in the gloom, the night sky outside clouded and only the vague light of one torch visible through the window. Then a glimmer caught his attention, and he craned his neck to see a glow-worm toy nestled at the foot of one of the sets of shelves, silhouetted figures around him. His heart gave a leap as he recognised the distinctive outstretched wings of Buzz Lightyear, walking back and forth with his arms loosely linked behind his back, and Woody quickly began to scramble down the bookcase.
He slipped from part way down and tumbled to the floor with a soft clatter. Breathing curses, Woody was pulling himself to his feet as a red ‘laser’ was centred on his chest, glinting off his badge. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“Cool it, Buzz,” he hissed, swatting at the red dot as if to wave it away. Buzz came towards him, framed by the light of the glow-worm, then stopped as he came close enough for the two toys to see each other’s faces. Buzz’s helmet was lowered, a deep scratch running down one side of his face and blurring out one eye; his expression softened but fell as he caught sight of Woody.
“You should not have returned, Woody,” he said softly.
Woody looked at him in horror. “Buzz, what do you-”
He got no further, throwing up one arm to cover his face as a bright torch was shone into his face. Buzz started to protest, but was cut off by something that Woody could not see as his eyes tried to adjust. Finally the light was turned away from him, and he looked up to see the yellow dump truck, backed towards him. His eyes travelled slowly upwards, past brown boots, cow-hide chaps, a white blouse. Finally he reached the figure’s face, surrounded by red hair cut above the shoulder, the colour worn from her cheeks to reveal pallour beneath.
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She stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Buzz, who was still standing with pain written on his face, shoulders slumped. A flicker of her hand, and he crossed to stand in front of her, dropping to one knee. Her eyes returned to Woody, green and glassy, as she spoke in a cold, flat voice quite unlike what he remembered.
“Where did you find the intruder, Buzz?”
“Jessie, please,” Buzz began, but she snapped her fingers and he flinched. “I found Woody here,” he said.
“He is not Woody. Woody is dead. You know this.”
“Hey, wait!” Woody protested. “I’m not dead. I’m-”
“Silence.” It was not a shout, not a cry, simply a word that cut his voice from his mouth and left him looking helplessly up at the cowgirl standing, hands on her hips, before him. “How long has he been here?”
“Only a moment. Let him go, now, please.”
“Buzz, what-”
“Silence.” Her voice was harder this time, her eyes fixed on him. “Intruders are not to be tolerated. Take him to the lockdown.”
Buzz stayed kneeling for a moment, then in a strained voice he said, “Yes, Jessie,” and rose to his feet. Woody looked at him speechlessly as the space ranger walked over, took hold of his once-friend’s arm, and steered him away towards one of the dark corners of the room. He didn’t glow the way he used to. Woody went to turn, to look as the sound of the dump truck moving again caught his attention, but Buzz said softly: “Don’t look back, cowboy.”
“What is going on?” hissed Woody as they reached a door in the corner of the room. Buzz reached up and rapped a short pattern; the handled turned, a pair of eyes peered round, then the door was pulled slowly open and Woody felt himself being dragged inside. “Buzz, what-”
“Please, Woody, don’t ask,” he replied dully. He met Woody’s eyes just for a moment, then turned into the dark of the cupboard to call: “Barbie, you know what to do.”
Then before Woody could say anything more, Buzz released him and left the cupboard, closing the door behind him. Darkness fell, and for the first time Woody began to feel truly afraid.
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