Chapter One

Arabelle was an extremely bright, curious, and adventurous little girl, with an imagination much bigger than her tiny size would lead you to believe.  Small things in life amazed her, and she was told by her mother she always had her head in the clouds.

Life for Arabelle was beautiful and care free, until her father passed away from being very sick for a very long time. After her father’s death, Arabelle and her mother moved to the tiny, strange town of Popplemell, and soon after that everything began to go downhill for the little girl. Soon after, she became slightly moreof a gloomy, troubled, and downtrodden child.

            Arabelle had already decided she did not like her new home; she did not like it all. The smell of it was old and musty, almost like a motel or someplace you knew you wouldn’t want to stay for a very long time. The floor boards all groaned and complained when Arabelle’s small body tip-toed across them and the stairs whined and creaked uncomfortably as well. The sound hurt her ears. And the smell bothered her nose. And the chipping paint and aged wood doors were not pleasing to the eye, she decided.

            “Mummy, how long will we be living here?” Arabelle questioned her very fashionable and sophisticated mother, Gloria Webber.

            “Forever,” Gloria said, fluffing her silky chestnut hair at the long dinning room table. “This is your new home, Arabelle Anne, and you will learn to love it here, just like our old home.”    

            “I loved the old home because daddy lived in it with us,” Arabelle pointed out to her mother, while pushing the icky cooked vegetables around her dinner plate. “This home will never have daddy in it. I can’t love it.”

            “You will learn to love it,” Gloria repeated, taking a sip from her water glass, leaving a lipstick smudge on the glass. Arabelle’s mother was not very sympathetic of such things. She cried the first week straight after her husband, Benjamin Webber, passed away of an illness, but after that she cried no more. And she told her daughter Arabelle to do the same, because crying was a sign of weakness.

            “We Webber’s are not weaklings,” she had told Arabelle. “We are graceful and strong.”

            Arabelle did not feel weak, but sometimes she thought it felt good to cry.

            Gloria had not always been there for her daughter. Gloria did not have to work for her family, and instead, she spent a great deal of time spending the money her husband Benjamin made on fur coats, flashy, expensive jewelry, and dinners out with her girlfriends. Benjamin found time to work hours at the business he owned and still have time for his daughter, and for that, Arabelle missed him dearly.

            With the lot of money he had left his family, Gloria spent it on moving out of their original home and moving into this new one, which was far, far away in the town of Popplemell. Arabelle thought it smelled like an old person’s home, or a petting zoo maybe?

            “Don’t play with your dinner, Arabelle,” Gloria scolded her daughter. “I slaved over this dinner—you’re disrespecting me by not eating it.”     

            “I don’t like cooked carrots,” Arabelle insisted. “Daddy never made me cooked carrots. Can I just have a bowl of cereal?”

            Gloria squinted her deep blue eyes disapprovingly. “There’s no cereal left in the cupboard. You ate all of it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner yesterday.”

            Arabelle harrumphed to herself.

            “May I be excused?” she asked.

            “Where are you excusing yourself to?” Her mother wanted to know.

            “Outside,” Arabelle said, gazing out the windows. “It’s still light out. I want to play.”

            Gloria looked as though she were considering this idea, as she tapped her glass gently with her spoon. “Yes, I suppose you may. But don’t run off very far, I will call you in when it’s time for bed.”

            Arabelle got up from her seat, pushed in her chair with a loud screech, and set off across the dinning room towards the front door.

            A fat robin was chirping loudly in the oak tree out front. Sun was shining weakly through the green leaves, and Arabelle thought maybe the robin preferred this warmth, and this is what made him sing.

            She heard a cough coming from her left. Turning her head in the direction of the curious noise, she saw a boy, about her age, standing outside the front of the house next door. He had dark brown hair which was tufting out beneath a white baseball cap, and a blue jacket on.   He was starring at Arabelle with the most peculiar look, and it was making her feel uncomfortable.

            “Hello,” She called over to him kindly. The dark haired boy continued staring uneasily back at her.

            “Hi…” he called back, with not nearly as much as enthusiasm Arabelle had used.

            “Why are you giving me such weird looks? I was only trying to be polite,” She questioned.

            “Sorry, I don’t mean to give you weird looks,” The boy said, swallowing hard and still starring at Arabelle as though she had three heads upon her shoulders. “It’s just in all the years I’ve lived here no one has ever lived in that house.” He jutted a finger out towards Arabelle’s old, spooky home.

            “Never in your lifetime?” She repeated, taking a double look at the house she just walked out of, wondering what it was that made the boy’s statement true. “That’s strange…why do you think that is?”

            “I dunno…never thought much about it, really,” the boy said, his hard edge fading softly as he straightened up. “There have been…stories…about it. That’s all. What’s your name?”

            “I’m Arabelle Webber,” the small, chestnut haired girl replied. “What’s yours?”

            “The name’s Danny. Danny Johnston,” The baseball capped boy answered. “So…where’s your parents?”

            It was Arabelle’s turn to make a face. “I don’t live with both my parents. I live with my mother, she’s inside eating dinner. My daddy died not too long ago.”

            “I’m sorry,” Danny said, sounding very sorry indeed. “I only live with my dad and six siblings.   My parents are divorced.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” Arabelle said also. “But it must be nice to have so many brothers and sisters. I don’t have any.”

            Danny scratched the back of his ear. “No, it’s not all that nice. We don’t get along that well…”

            “That’s a shame.” Arabelle’s eyes looked Danny once over. He seemed upset about something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Hey, do you want to come with me? I was going to look around the grounds a little before bedtime.”

            Danny looked back at his house windows.  A soft commotion could be heard from The Johnston’s house, but Arabelle couldn’t decide what was happening on the other side of the walls.

            “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

            The two did not know each other well, but for some reason Arabelle felt safe with Danny, like she could trust him to make sure she would not get hurt on their little adventure.    They explored the back of Arabelle’s house. The yard was unkempt and the grass grew green and wild and nearly as tall as Arabelle herself, and it danced in the wind as though it were alive.

            “What exactly are we looking for?” Danny wanted to know.

            “Hmm,” Arabelle thought. “Anything, really. Anything at all.”

            “Okay…” Danny pondered. He thought it strange Arabelle was searching but did not know what she was searching for.

            They continued walking further and further away from Arabelle’s home, and the sky continued growing darker and darker. While they trudged through the high grass, they chattered back and forth like old friends.

            “Why don’t you get along well with your siblings?” Arabelle questioned Danny. He took the cap off his head and wiped away a streak of sweat before replying.

            “We’re all different ages. We all have different chores, different responsibilities,” He explained. “We don’t have time to get along with each other.”

            “Oh.” She didn’t really understand, but she wanted to sound polite.

            “It’s getting dark, maybe we should turn back,” Danny suggested after a moment of cricket’s chirping.

            Right before Arabelle opened her mouth to respond, she saw it.

            A wishing well.             It wasn’t too far off from where the two were standing in the high grass.

            “I found it!” She rejoiced.

            “Found what?” Danny asked.

            “Something! It’s an old well, I think.” She rushed forward through the grass and stood just before the structure, waiting for Danny to catch up with her.

 

            The two stood side by side in front of the old wishing well, almost entranced by the detail carved into the stone of designs even Arabelle couldn’t dream up. Arabelle stepped closer to it and peered down over the edge. She could clearly make out a reflection, even more crystal clear than the grimy mirror in her new bedroom. Yet somehow, the reflection in the water looked much different than the scene Arabelle and Danny were standing in at that moment. The trees and grass in the reflection seemed to be swaying and dancing, and they were glittering as well. Everything seemed brighter, more exciting, and livelier.

            “I never knew this was even back here,” Danny said in amazement. “I was never allowed to play in this yard, because my mother never trusted it.”

            Without a good explanation, Arabelle stuck her hand inside the water and moved it around, like she was reaching out for the pretty scene.

            “What are you doing now?” Danny questioned in short patience.

            “Danny, this isn’t water! Put your hand in it, it’s not liquid. It’s like I’m reaching through—like I’m touching air.”

            Danny moved closer, thinking at this point Arabelle was indeed a very crazy little girl. However, he soon realized she was not at all crazy, and that there certainly was no water in this well, although it sure enough looked to be water.

       “Hold on a second,” Arabelle said, reaching her arm deeper and deeper into the well ‘water’. “I can feel something…it feels like…it feels like a butterfly! It’s tickling me!” Arabelle giggled. Reaching in further, she lost her balance, and tipped over the edge with a shriek.

Reviews

[Sg]

Very good story but It shouldn't of been in one chapter ..... please check out my page ... I would like views.

[Snickers]

Very interesting I would like you to write more.