literature

the Wednesday Children

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On Monday morning, young Charlotte Wednesday stood tall and silent, with her head tilted down. She was afraid to look at other people because they might see her eyes. No one had eyes like Charlotte's; they were bright yellow. Like someone had painted her eyes onto her. It was something she'd tried to hide since her nanny teased her for it. An abused women herself, Nanny Dunbar was looking for many ways to inconvenience, harrass, and hurt the children of David, and Isabelle Wednesday. A totally unpredictable woman, once hitting Nicholas Wednesday so hard his cheek spit open spewing warm crimson bood all over the Wednesday's nursery. Rather than appologize and mend young Nicholas, she struck him harder across the head for bleeding. Then made him eat the blood soaked spounge cake that was deliverd to the room earlier by Mrs. Wednesday. When asked what happend, Nanny Dunbar blamed Katrina for the awefull scratch.
If anyone were to see Charlotte's eyes, they might comment on them, and encourage the torment of Nanny Dunbar. "Stand up straight, child!" she hissed, jerking Charlottes arm, "I dont care what stupid things your parents are putting into your head, but proper people hold their heads high with dignigty. Not that you have any."
"Yes, Nanny Dunbar," She picked her head up just enough to keep Nanny Dunbar from commenting more, but cast her eyes to the marble floor. For any one could amble by and notice the strange girl with yellow eyes.
"Nicholas!" she hissed again, "Keep your hand away from your face. You only have that scar because you were stupid enough to scratch at it when it was fresh."
"Nanny Dunbar, I had to scratch an itch." He tried vainly to defend his actoin.
"What foolishness. Do I look stupid, young man? Hmm?" She squeezed his hand hard to get an answere from Nicholas, "No, Nanny," he said with a contorted face as he twisted over in pain.
"Well then you would know that I could see you picking at your face for the past five minutes!"
"Yes Nanny,"
"You children are liars and bastards. I should see to it that your parents punish you for being so embarrasing while out with me."
"Nanny, we've tried to be good all afternoon. Please dont tell our parents that we were bad."
"It would be a breach of the trust your parents have in me not to."
Waiting at the bank with Nanny Dunbar was one of the many awefull things that the Wednesday children had to endure with their parents away constantly on adventures of their own. Last summer it was Africa, the summer before that, a trip to Brazil. Today the only adventure the Wednesday parents were on was the Boston Ballet. What would be an evening for most couples was an entire day for the Wednesday's. Breakfast at Dumonds, tea with the Kennedys, along with croqet. The afternoon would be spent at the Wednesday mansion in the drawing room reading books, with their three children running errends with Nanny Dunbar. It was the norm for the Wednesday children not to see their parents for an entire day, week, or month. Katrina Wednesday listend to the barrage of insults, threats, and abuse that fell upon her two siblings, but was unmoved on the outside. However, she was constantly plotting Nanny Dubars grousome demise. It would never be heard by anyone. Katrina was very good at keeping secrets. You could say she was the best. But the only reason she was good at not telling anyone anything was because she was mute.

Their name had a dark arua to it. The term "Wednesday Child" comes from the old tale that if a child is born on the fourth day of the week, that child will be full of woe. Unfortunatly for the Wednedsay children, they were all born on the fourth day of the week, on a Friday, in the thirteent day of April. Which ment that every so often the triplets brithday will fall on a Friday the Thirteenth. No person with common sence would ever belive in such superstitouse rubbish, but the Wednesday children had curse of missery. Maybe if it had'nt been for their terrible nanny, or ever absent parents. But these things were futile to mull over. This was the Sysiphean fate the'd been assigned. Try to appeas Nanny Dunbar, only to have it back fire. Push the boulder a little higher, only to have it roll back down the hill.

"Fanny Dunbar!" a man called out.
"Yes," Nanny Dunbar replied cheerely. "Coming right away." she waived. "Now you children listen to me; if I have to say one word of obedience to you at all during this meeting, I shall see to it that your father lashes all of you with a switch I will cut my self." Her cold icy stare met all three children. Nicholas and Charlotte nodded in compliance, but Katrina stood their looking into Nanny Dunbars eyes without fear. More curiosity. "Do you understand, Katrina? Just because you are mute dosent mean you can't answere me." Katrina cocked her head to the side as if she were looking at a curiouse beetle or, a pretty picture that peeked her curiosity. "Stupid child."
Katrina smiled at her siblings after Nanny Dunbar turned away. Her courage was shared by all the Wednesday children. They didnt fear Fanny Gerturde Dunbar, they feared what she would tell their parents. She would mostly spin the truth to make it sound as if they were the most horrible children ever created. But, the Wednesday's werent without their deviouse talents for disaster. Supernatural, some would say, but I say its because they had the mental fortitude to do such things. Nicholas would read peoples minds and exploite their fears, as well as converse with people in this manner. Charlotte could move objects telepathicly. Katrina was not without her talents, but it was not like the ones Nicholas and Charlotte had. For one, she could grow her nailes to be as long, or short as she desierd. Her other ability was less a gift, and more of a flaw; she had no conscience. Cold blood ran through her veins. She could very easly kill someone for any reason and have no regrets. And with very long, sharp and strong nails at the end of every one of her fingers, she was very likely to do so. It was discoverd by myself that one unsolved mystery of Boston back in the Victorian era was the night slasher. Someone, the athourities belived to be a man was killing people by slitting their throats. Not cutting the wind pipe their by suffocating the victem, but severing the jugular causing the hapless victem to bleed to death. The slaser would stab his victem four times in a patter resembling a hand going into the neck. Of course, they never found the man witnesses described to be seven feet tall with a horrible black beard and hook. It was in this biographers opinion, Katrina E. Wednesday's blood lust.
"Come quickly now, I dont want to stand here all day with you horrible brats." Nanny Dunbar murmmured as she dragged the children into a room of the back where a fat man with a stylish wrap-around mustache offerd the old woman a seat, and candy for the children. "Would you children care for a toffey? They are qute tastey. I can't seem to get enough of them as you can clearly see." He said patting his belly.
"The children just ate, and I'd hate for them to have an over abundence of food. Kids these day's are getting spoiled with treats anyways."
"I see." The banker sat down behind his big wooden desk and shuffled a few papers. "Well, getting down to buisness...I am Mr. Hall, the executor of you ex-husbands estate; I am terribly sorry to hear of his recent passing, although I know you two were devorced quite some time ago."
"Yes, thank you."
"Now, I'm sure you do not know much about your ex-husbands affairs since he left for New York following your separaton..." he paused and looked at the three children, "Are you sure you children wont be more comfortable outside? This is really not anything you would be interested in hearing."
"Charlotte was about to speak up when she was cut off by Nanny Dunbar, "I'm afraid I can not do that. These children seem to have a bad habit of finding trouble whenever I let them on their own." This of course is certinly not true.
"I see," Mr. Hall cleared his throat and continued, "After your divorce, Mr. Dunbar never changed his will; you are still legaly elegable to inherit all his assets." Nanny Dunbar lit up in a way the children had never seen. "Unfortunatly, that also carrys the responsibility of his debts, and I'm afraid he had quite a few. The bank tried to clear as many debts by auctioning off his items but it only paid off fifteen hundred dollers of his debt. I'm afraid he left you with a negative three thousand dollers." Nanny Dunbars jaw droped and the children wished they were invisible knowing the wrath of this terrible news would fall onto them.
"Three-thousand dollers?" she stammerd, "I dont have three-thousand dollers. I dont have three-hundred dollers."
"Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear this, madam, but I'm afraid that you are the soul proprieter of his assets, debts and all."
"How can I be responsible for his stupidity when I havent seen, nor heard from him in fifteen years?" She said very crossly. The Mr. Hall felt a twinge of anxiety after seeing the anger growing in the woman across from him. He cleared his throat and continued, "I'm very, very sorry to inform you of this, but without a change in the will, you were still legaly entitled to all his financial earnings and debts upon his death. It's the state law, not mine, Mrs. Dunbar. You must somehow come up with the three-thousand dollers."
"Do I have a deadline to earn this money?"
"The bank has granted an extention on all his accounts until the end of the year. Afterwards I'm afraid we must put a lean againt your possesions until all debts are repaid in full."
"It's September. I have three months to make three-thousand dollers?"
"I am afraid so."

"The door to the Wednesday mansion slammed shut and Nanny Dunbar stormed in throwing her purse onto the stairs. "Go to your rooms you horrible, filthy, disgusting beasts! How dare you embarrase me in public!"
I must pause at this moment and back track; it was not the Wednesday children who embarressed Nanny Dunbar, but Nanny Dunbar who embarrassed Nanny Dunbar. No one could have fortold that she would slip in mud getting into the cab of the carrage (except perhaps Nicholas). But still, such is the manner of a dreadfull person like Fanny Dunbar.
"I shall tell your father what you have done and demand compensation! This is a fourty doller dress!" Although informed sourses have told me that the dress was not worth that at all. Fourty dollers modern currency maybe, but fourty dollers 1895 currency would buy her a much prettyer dress.
"Go!"
"Yes, Nanny Dunbar," the two speaking Wednesdays said in unison.
"I will bleed this money out of your rotten family's soul!" Fanny Dunbar screamed at the top of her lungs. Not refering to the fourty dollers she was going to try to imbezle from Mr. Wednesday, but the three-thousand dollers she now owed the bank. "And not a word from any of you, or I shall beat you with my riding crop!"
Nicholas led Charolette up the stairs to the nursery, but Katrina stood on the third step smiling at Nanny Dunbar with deviously. She was not a cocky person, but she knew that if Dunbar laid a hand of Katrina, it may very well be the last thing she did. For instence, when Katrina was 6 years old as still learining of her ever chainging nailes, Nanny Dubar grabbed Katrinas arm very hard almost pulling out of its socket. Rather than crying or yelping in pain, Katrina sunk her teeth into Dunbars arm causing it to bleed profusly. Even after Nanny Dunbar managed to get the young hemophile off her, Katrina continued her attack nearly biting off the tip of Nanny Dunbars right index finger. Since then Nanny Dunbar had tried to keep the lovely and bright Katrina under her control, without encouring her wrath.
"Nicholas!" she shouted, with her cold blue eyes fixed on Katrina, "Take your bitch of a sister up to your room." Almost the instant she utterd this sentance, Nanny Dunbar heard a voice in her head say to her, "You shall die..."
Young Katrina's grin grew to expose her very sharp k-nine's, and other perfect teeth. It was a smile of joy, but her eyes held a very sinister seceret. Just then, the hat rack tipped over without cause or reason. Through my investigation of Katrina Wednesday, I understand that she had no supernatural powers like her siblings, but it is a well known fact that twins, triplits, quintuplets and so on, hold the strongets bond then that of other siblings. It is said that they can speak to each without words. They can feel each others pain, and joy. Was Nanny Dunbar was bringing out this strange supernatural quality in the Wednesday children? It would'nt suprise me.

For a moment I shall tell another tale relating to the Wednesday children, you'll soon understand. A few years before the American Revolution, The family Burgess had a daughter. The Burgess's were already blessed with a large family of three sons and two daughters, but in the times of old, the bigger the family, the better chance of the family surviving. However, their new arrival was not one of great pleasure. She was blind. Young Picketty Burgess had no eyes what-so-ever. Her family was a good christian one, so they tried to be as patient as they could with Picketty. Her father gave her a black velved band to wrap around her head and cover her eyes so that no one might notice her horrible disfiguration. After many many years of trying and failing, the Burgesses were tired of Pickitty's constant need for assistance. Every time they would have to aid her they would say, "God grant me patients." in order to get draw power from the Lord. Soon though, they got tired of desiering patients, and began calling their handycaped daughter Pickitty Patients. She could not be in the sun for too long elst she'd get sick; nor could she go more than two months without falling dreadfully ill and vomiting black bile. Other than the fact that she had no eyes, Pickitty Patients was a lovely young lady. But with no way to be of any use at all, over the years, her family got tired of her. One day, Martha Burgess went to her husband after helping Pickitty get to bed. "If ever an oppertunity comes where we are able to get rid of that girl, we shall not take it for granted. God will forgive us, for he knows we have tried our best with that little freak. Her father quckly agreed to the plot. One day, when her father needed to go into town to buy more seed for his crop, he acted in his plan to  abandon Pickitty in the woods miles from the town. "Come down from their, my child," her father said, "We must inspect the horses. I know you have a strange and wonderfull tallent for calming the livestock. "Yes, father." Pickitty complied happily and was led by her father around to near the front of the carrage. Suddenly her father grabbed her violently by the arm and hauled her off into the cold woods. He did not walk for very long; only five hundred yards from where the road was. "Father!" she pleaded, "Wha-what are you doing?" He would give her no answere. "Please, father, what is going on?" He finally stopped. "I am finished with you child." He said sternly, "Maybe God will have enough patients to take care of a lame child, but I have run out. I wash my hands of you." With that final sentence being his good by to his young daughter, he shoved her to the ground and walked away quickly stiffling the tears that welled up in his eyes at the cries and protests of his daughter. He could hear her crying and screaming for miles down the road. He heard it at church, and at dinner. He heard it at night, and in his sleep. It haunted him for many many months. He could no longer travel down the same streach of road to the town, and eventually could no longer venture beyond his property.
A year to the day that they'd abandoned their sweet Pickitty, a chant could be heard from the woods, "The Pickitty Witch, the Pickitty Witch, who has a kiss for the Pickitty Witch?" The chant grew from what sounded like one voice to many. Soon it was a cacophony of many voices in the distant woods, and seemed to get closer. "The Pickitty Witch, the Pickitty Witch, who has a kiss for the Pickitty Witch?"
"Henery," his wife said, "Who is that?"
"I know not, dear wife." his voice shook with fear. For in his heart he knew exactly who it was.
"The Pickitty Witch, the Pickitty Witch, who has a kiss for the Pickitty Witch?" The family cowared inside their houes and barracaded themselves in. "It's Pickitty, is'nt it? She's come back to haunt us." William, their youngest boy said.
"No, it's not her. It must be the local savages warshipping their heathen gods." Henery said trying to convince himself of his own story. "We shall be safe here tonight. I'll keep the fire going."
But Henery Burgess fell asleep on his watch. In the morning Martha Burgess could not find her husband. She looked every where she could think of. She called his name into the woods on the edge of their property panic striken, she rushed back into the house, but stoped when she notice a black velvet band on the ground in front of their door.
It was many, many months that Martha mourned her husbands dissappearance. She prayed to God that it was indeed a savage that murderd her sleeping husband. Ghosts and goblins did not exist in her world. Another aniversary went by since the passing of Pickitty Patients, but this time, no chanting came from the woods. Martha thought that maybe she would only seek revenge on the one who abandoned her, and not the one who plotted the act. However, on the night of the thirteenth of April, the chant could be heard once again, "The Pickitty Witch, the Pickitty Witch, who has a kiss for the Pickitty Witch?"
Martha was not one to wait around and let the curse get ahold of her too. In a desparate and cowardly act, she abandoned her entire family and fled on horse into the open feild. She was never heard from again. Her horse was discoverd hanging from a tree by its entrails, with a black velvet band wrapped around its head mile's from the family home. Since the oldest child was only fifteen, the children were placed in the care of the town pastor; One Reverend Binkley. The children were traumatized at the vanishing of their father, and the abandonment by their mother in the course of two years, and as any one would be, feared the two horrible dates January the third, and April the Thirteenth.
On the third of January that year, the chanting could be heard coming form the woods. The Reverend prayed with the children until they all went to sleep. The next morning, all were safe. Not a bad dream, or bump in the night. They thought they'd been saved from the ghost of their dead sister, but when Mary, the middle child, opend the door to the good Reverends home, she found a black velvet band on the ground infront of the door. None of the children did any chores for that day, or the next. In fact, for the entire week, the Burgess children remained inside the Binkley home afraid to do anything apart from reading the Bible. Three months went by without the chanting, or messages on their front door. Unfortunatly for the Burgess children, they knew when the next visit would come. For the next twelve days the children were very, very quiet. Their appitite had droped, and so had their energy for anything but hideing in their room. The reverend assured them that they would be safe. This house was a sancutary. No deamon of the devil could pass through. They believed him to be correct, for that night, no chanting was heard. Cautiously optimistic, the children fell asleep. The next morning, the reverend could not find the young Burgess children, but a black velvet band had once again appeard on the ground in front of the door. A search was organized, calling every citizen in town. It did not take long to find the Burgess children. They were back on the old family home. Mr. Burgess, Mrs. Burgess and the children were found hanging from the rafters with black velvet bands wraped around their eyes

That night, as Katrina was performing unnessisary surgery on her dolls, and Charolette picked apples from the tree outside their window, Nicholas sat reading his favorite book "Peter Pan". He loved to get lost in the world of flying people, mirmades, pirates and indians. Tonight however, his mind was not on the lost boys of never never land. "We are going to kill Dunbar." He said casualy. Charolette nearly dropped the apple that was still fifteen feet away and floating up to her when she heard her brothers comment. "What do you mean?" she asked a moment later.
"She's going to kill mother and father...we shall do unto her first." He turned the page and pretended as though he were still engrosed in his book. Katrina continued on with the lobotomy as if this was a normal topic of conversation.
"Nicholas, we should tell mother and father, not just commit cold blooded murder." Although the prospect of Nanny Dunbars death was a tempting one, Charolette always tried to be a good Christian. Their was a silence in the room broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock, and the ripping off of dolls head.
"We're too late." Nicholas finally said.
The lives of the Wednesday Children. A cross between Lemony Snicket's a Series of Unfortunate Events, Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, and something really dark. This is just the first part of the story. When I get the motovation, I'll probably continue.
I just added more to the story, including a side story that will come into play later on. I figured I may as well explain it now while it was fresh in my mind.
© 2005 - 2024 Robert-Scott-Pfau
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tollwut's avatar
:heart: Wow yeh this is great stuff! It reminds me of that book "The Cement Garden" by Ian McEwan, which is a really great book you should read if you haven't already =3 The structure reminds me of your story a whole lot ^_^

Lol your spelling is so cute =3 Made me smile you wrote "patients" not "patience" :) Awww! :aww:

I hate giving critique, but maybe it would be a good idea if you didn't just sum up everyone's special talents but let them sicker through throughout the story.

-but anyways- I'm digging your story and I sure do hope there's a part II to this ^_____^