MIDNIGHT MISHAPS:
A depressing drizzle came down over the small town of Wrenwick. One named as such to honour the birds that took it as its home, and to possibly avoid the wrath they would've rained on the town if they didn't.
Fairywrens are proud little critters that pride themselves in their beautiful sapphire feathers that has long since caught the eyes of prospective tourists, but inflicts a deep headache between the eyes of residents of the titular town.
They are known as pests in the community whose crops get damaged, delicate skin gets pecked and hair swiped at by them.
Unfriendly and unsociable, one could only imagine the kind of character that would willingly keep such a nuisance as company. And such a character came in the form of a young girl named Anastasia Lockewood.
Anastasia was an outcast in their community for many reasons, majority of the blame falling to being a part of the Lockewood family who still got hateful glances from locals; although they had moved there over twelve years ago. And for being in the company of "Unsavoury figures"— those being the fairywrens and other creatures in the woodlands. Of course the issue of strange noises coming from the area of their apartment during a full moon was an eyebrow raiser too.
Now the Lockewood's weren't werewolves; Anastasia was certain when she'd happened upon a wolfsbane patch in her neighbour's garden and didn't have the meat fall off of her bones. So lycanthropy could be ruled off on their neighbours checklists.
This made her steer clear of the Featherworth's however, as it showed intent to harm Anastasia's family if they did have the ability to turn into beasts on a full moon.
Nothing extraordinary ever happened behind closed doors on odd nights either, except for the fact that they were left wide open and her parents liked to sneak off into the night. Anastasia didn't like to ponder too much on that last one, she wanted to believe they were a part of a midnight book club, and not out practicing magic like the townsfolk believed.
So the answer to the abnormal behaviours of the Lockewood's really couldn't be answered by anyone other than Mr And Mrs Lockewood themselves. But first, Anastasia seems to have found herself in a very abnormal situation.
She stared down at a brick that had unceremoniously flown in through her open window. She just stared and wondered what the heck the universe was throwing at her this time.
"You know....I could just ignore it. If I pretend it's not there, then it should disappear by morning." She looked hopefully to the bird that perched on her bed. Having flown away from the window when the brick was thrown; safe to say he was in no mood for amusements.
"Your face looks like you're about to tell me off, Flair." Not a chirp came from the bird.
"That is what you're saying right? 'Anastasia you can't run away from your problems', it's what Mom and Dad would say".
Tomorrow was a Monday; She wasn't legally obligated to go to bed as it was just half past nine. And Anastasia didn't want to either. She stared at the letter tied to the brick until the only interesting solution to the problem was to read it. And so she did.
"To: Anastasia,
Read this in secret or yours will be exposed.
Tell anyone about this and face the consequences.
Come to Fernwood tomorrow. Ditch first period English and head straight for the gazebo by the twin swan fountain. Deals will be made there.
Come alone or else..."
Anastasia stared blankly at it wondering the idiots that sent her this. The only secrets she had would be the supply of snacks stashed in shoes she wore five years ago. And a list of shows her mother told her NOT to watch, but did so anyways.
A brief look behind the letter revealed a signature.... from "The Followers Of Sherlock" it said.
"Oh God it's those dimwits" Was all she got out before grabbing her backpack and sneaking out of their apartment. Surely this "Deal" was a trap. They would never make deals with her if it didn't include dealing WITH her.
Images plagued her mind as she climbed through the laundry shoot to escape her apartment building. She could imagine elaborate schemes in place and could get lost in the thrill of it all. But this was Emma, Rosa, Garfield and Ginger they were talking about; she'd trip over pulled rope at least three times and that'd be the most they could pull. Pun intended.
Anastasia rode along the streets of Wrenwick under a moon that basked in its full glory. A green pendant—the shape of a dragonfly—dangled from her neckline as she hunched over her bike and paddled feverishly towards Fernwood park.
Her ride was a red, creaky old thing she had gotten for her 7th birthday, that had clearly seen better days. It caught her mother's eye at a garage sale due to the striking similarity to her hair, and Anastasia never went anywhere without it since.
Like the bike was a companion to her, so was the fairywren