Hullo, everyone! Here’s that surprise I mentioned yesterday. It’s been over a month since the end of Avengers’ Isle, which was a ton of fun, and it seemed like all of you enjoyed it, too. Rather than start a sequel (which I was tempted to do after watching Age of Ultron), I decided to take a story I was planning and turn it into a serial story for your enjoyment. I present to you part one of Twinepathy. Enjoy, my dear friends! If you like it, share!
Hello, my name is Albany, and I have a telepathic connection with my twin sister, along with the ability to read minds.
Well, that may not be the best start, but I’m pretty proud of it. It makes this sound like it’s going to be an awesome story. Which it is. But the beginning… well… I promise it’ll get more exciting than this.
Denver, my older brother, moaned and drew a card from the small stack. “How can you guys beat me at everything?”
Brooklyn, twin sister extraordinaire and social butterfly, gives him a mischievous grin. “You’re just too obvious.”
Denver gives me a helpless look, and I shrug. “I’m losing, too.”
“And if I win…” Brooklyn studies her hand. “You have to treat me to dinner, Denver.”
He makes a moaning sound. “Okay, fine. But not tonight. You know I’ve got a date.”
Brooklyn makes a face. If there’s one thing she dislikes, it’s Denver dating. She would definitely prefer to only have to share him with me and Mom and Dad. It doesn’t matter to her that Ezra’s a sweet, slightly awkward girl that Denver’s gone head over heels for. It also doesn’t matter to her that she hardly does anything with him, anyway… but I digress.
“Two,” Brooklyn says to me. I mutter something under my breath and hand a card to her. She sniffs the air. “Your cookies are burning.”
I fly into the kitchen. I’m no cook, but I had to try the bacon cookie recipe I found. I mean, hello, bacon and cookies! My two favorite foods just have to be amazing together. I should’ve known I’d burn them. I can’t cook anything.
I pull out the extra crispy cookies just as the doorbell rings. “You should get that while you’re up,” Denver calls. I roll my eyes. I’ll be he and Brooklyn are laughing. I hate checking the door. Technically, since Mom and Dad aren’t here – they’re on a date – Denver should answer the door, since he’s the oldest. But of course they’ll make me do it. I check the cookies. Yep, they’re burnt enough that no one will want to eat them, not even me. I’ll have to beg Mom to try the recipe for me. What a waste of bacon and cookie. I sigh and wipe my hands on a towel before heading to the door.
I peer out the peephole and don’t see anything until I look down. There, on our doorstep, is a little girl in a ratty red dress, hair tangled and face smudged. She looks around eight years old, maybe a little less. I send a mental image of her to Brooklyn before opening the door.
“Hello,” I say, gazing at her. I notices she’s not wearing shoes, and her dress looks fairly new, just dirty and torn. “Who are you?”
She looks up at me with haunting blue eyes – hollow, scared, lost. Her mouth opens, as if she’s going to speak, but an odd expression crosses her face. She wobbles, then crumples to the ground, out cold.
Well, what do you think so far? Thoughts, comments? Comment below! Your comment could be the difference between the continuation of this series… and the end. No pressure…