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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1718161-Death-Note-Wammy-House-Reputation
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Detective · #1718161
Death Note Wammy characters join together to make a cute little Static novel. Enjoy. =D
I wandered through the plaza, looking at the people eating food. Lucky them, I thought. They're eating like kings and they chew like there's no tomorrow. My mouth wants to bite into a chip. My stomach growled. An old woman looks at me with a sad look. She gave me her cup of tea and the rest of her tuna sandwich. I said, "God bless you."

Then, I roamed the forest on the outskirts of the city whose name isn't important. Light was starting to fade, and I hadn't made camp yet. That was when I came across the fence.

As I peered into the courtyard, a yelp came from a little boy with bright orange freckles. He pointed his finger at me and screamed again. Other children looked at me, and horror struck their faces.

"Oh. Uh. . .I. . .Bye. . ." I rushed back into the deep recesses of the trees, liking the feeling of the darkness touching my skin. It felt like a comfortable blanket. I had to distance myself from that place. I swiped my short raven black bangs from my dark black eyes. My pants snagged on a low branch, causing me to stop and sink to the ground and pant for breath.

As if my life couldn't get any worse. Pants ripped and now I'm on target by a horde of little midgets. Great, just great. I'm homeless, I'm an orphan, I go hungry and thirsty on a daily basis, and I'm being followed by a creepy old man with a weird mustache. All I need is a few tattoos, unexplained scars, and a tanned trench coat. I'm so excited.

The next day I set off through the brush into the cheap store section of the city. I ate a piece of bread and jam. The day's water supply came from a leaky pump. That day was supposed to go like this: get up, go to library, avoid male librarian, take a nap, and look at gorgeous foods. But God wouldn't have it. Nope.

One step on the libraries large steps and I was pushed into a van, blindfolded, and put into an excellently constructed headlock when I struggled.

"Please! Let me go! Please?!" I yelled over and over again. After a while though, everything seemed useless and the only thing I could do was breathe and hope and pray.

When I was finally dragged out of the van, I heard again that insistent drone of a child's voice. Or a myriad of them. I felt my eyebrows pull together. I was never a person of child liking. They're gross and loud and really annoying.

I was finally unblindfolded and when my eyes opened, I saw a dull and adult-like room filled with books. I groaned.

A man, MAN?!, with large, round black eyes, dark circles, and a slight hunch, spoke to me in a calm voice, "We don't want to harm you. We just want you to join us."

"Join who?" I asked.

"Us." He replied.

"Who is us, exactly?" I wanted to know answers, and I wanted to know them then and there. If there was one thing my conscience has told me, it is to never compromise what God has decided for me.

"Right. Introductions first. My name is L, this is Roger and Watari. They are the founders of this orphanage." L replied cooly. His deep eyes played silently as they searched my equally dark eyes.

"Where- Wait, WHAT? Orphanage? I don't DO orphanages, Mister L." I tried to get up but . . . I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move. God, did you really want me to stay here? And did you want what happened, to happen?





© Copyright 2010 Orabelle Hiomi Zefronke (thousandmasks at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1718161-Death-Note-Wammy-House-Reputation