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Mail
This is the Mailbox of Violet Baudelaire. -
(Untitled)
"This can't be that hard." Violet squinted at one of the cookbooks, the wooden spoon in her hand dripping on the floor without her noticing. "This reallyShe looked back at the bowl on the counter, her brows knitting in consternation. The batter in the bowl looked nothing like the picture. It looked lumpy in some spots, and liquid pooled in others ( Read more... ) -
All she needs is a mission.
Five weeks ( Read more... ) -
A bird of such a name that she dare not speak it.
It'd been four hours this time. Four hours carefully building the trap, lengths of twine in her mouth as she half-hung from the tree by her legs, wrapping the bits of string and cut up sheet around sticks and twigs and what seemed like planks although they weren't hardly ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
You little bitch.
Violet can't stop replaying the last- has it really have only been twenty minutes? No, it has to have been more. More time, more space. All of that-
Violet Baudelaire is very, very used to things happening quickly. The world seems to slip away when things happen - when she finds herself walking through the snow with her hands ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
Violet sat on a large rock, staring out at the ocean.
Not for the first time, she was seriously contemplating - and wondering, honestly, what exactly would happen if she jumped bakc in. Would she be back in the ocean with Olaf? Would she be exactly where she landed ( Read more... ) -
100 sentences
When Klaus was born, Violet originally thought that it was to spite her. She loves the color yellow because her mother did. She has nearly died more times then she can count, however before the Baudelaire mansion burned she'd sidestepped it exactly fourteen times (Ten of which were electricity related.) The Baudelaire children didn't go to normal ( Read more... ) -
it takes a village;
For Beatrice -
Life is for lovers,
But not for you.I wish I could tell you that this story was one full of buzzing bees, interesting individuals, munchable mangoes and sanguine sunshine. I also wish this was a marvelous tale of how three poor, beleaguered orphans found happiness on an island paradise, where they found their parents waiting for ( Read more... ) -
Someone else's Window;
She'd been staring upward for almost an hour.
Most people walked past, glancing up but seeing nothing but the bottom of what had normally been the Baudelaire treehouse. Violet, though, kept squinting up through the trees, not knowing the name of where she was looking, nor who lived there - just that it was familiar. Familiar in the way that you ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
The sun blazed on what had once been the verdant forests of Tabula Rasa. The shift had been relatively gradual; one day, a tree that had been growing high and strong would be gone, dead grass left in it's place. The ocean grayed, and quaint (if weathered) houses appeared - only to seem haunted by the long dead.
A skyscraper - the shattered remains ( Read more... )