" Sometimes, feelings are like the summer rain, coming out of nowhere and catching you unprepared. A nostalgic summer story set in the age of aristocrats begins right here. "
Dietrich witnessed the fall of the house of Lawrence.
Who knew where Mother's kitty had gone. His father, driven to distraction, and his mother, hysterical, were so close by, and yet no matter how he shouted, they did not pay him any heed.
"Arf..."
Dietrich lowered his head, but before he could speak again, the ground opened up beneath him. A pair of old crone's hands stretched out from the ground, seizing him by the neck. Then he fell, and his fall seemed not to end, till at last he crashed to earth at the feet of the old witch.
Strangely, it hurt not at all.
Something hooked onto Dietrich's necklace, and he found himself hoisted up bodily. All before him was darkness, and he could only see one thing — that which was below him. It was a steaming pot, filled with some unknown black substance that gurgled and belched. There were some solids in there, too, and when he looked, he could espy spiderwebs and the bones of venomous vipers...
Into his ear crept Nottfriga's voice: "Ah, I have you now, my last ingredient. Once I've put you in, my stew of life eternal shall be complete. Hahaha!"
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Let me go, you dastardly witch!
Dietrich struggled with all his might, not thinking for a moment that the bond of the hitherto inescapable necklace would suddenly be so easily slipped—
"Ar—"
And so he fell...
He heard nothing more, naught else but the howling wind and Nottfriga's crazed laughter whipping about his ears.