A Little Girl Named Death

  Let's be honest. Reader, you know not, why most loved ones had to die. You know not, why someone else, for example, your Algebra professor, couldn't have died in your loved one's place. Contrarywise, you know that deep down inside, you know that where they are going, you cannot follow. You know that, wherever they are going, that they will be in better care than they were alive. Most people would agree with you in the subject. But I am about to tell you a story that contradicts all of that. You, nor your elders might agree with my views, but everyone has a voice, regardless if others want it to be heard or no. But this story does not begin with "Once upon a time," as most stories do. This tale is of a different variety, beginning with the short tale of a well-loved young girl; and ending with the sad and melancholy tale of never-ending darkness.

  Long ago, in a time where children were free to play and frolic outside with their friends, and parents had better things to do than think about what their children were up to in the late afternoon; a young girl was picking daisies in an empty meadow a few blocks away from her grandparents home. This was no ordinary day, however, as the sun was forever shining in the deep, blue sky; which was a weather that none had ever witnessed in their beloved country of England.  The little girl had never been given a name when she was born, and therefore decided to name herself Naomi. She was a gentle soul, who had a passionate heart for music and nature. She was sweet and playful, as any child was at her age, but had a dark past. She knew what had happened to her parents a few nights prior to her nightmares, but never gave the dreams much thought. It wasn't until her seventh birthday, that she had begun to have terrible nightmares. Visions of diseases, deaths, and turmoils, which would in her later days drive her to the brink of insanity, lest she decided not to tell her grandparents about her vivid nightmares. Time went by, and clearer and clearer her dreams became, always ending the same way, with the foretold death of someone close to her. At that present moment, a few days after she had predicted the death of her expecting aunt, she was trying to keep herself in optimistic spirits, by sitting in a meadow covered in a plethora of flowers. Naomi's plan was to distract herself and her peers away from her frightening dreams, by creating daisy-chains in the meadow, singing softly to herself, and trying to smile twice as much as was habitual. By the third daisy chain, she began singing an old nursery rhyme to herself, one that had never made it into her mind, until she tried to understand her dreams.
"Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down." she sang, as she focused less and less on her daisy chain, and more on understanding the messages in her dreams. She seemed to find that the more she sang the song, the more she was curious about what her dreams meant. She began to sing the song louder, frowning and furrowing her brow even deeper, as she tried to concentrate on deciphering her dreams. It wasn't until she had shouted the rhyme for a seventh time, before she head the church bells ringing in the distance, clanging the hour with every chime.
  "Oh, dear! I didn't realize how late it's gotten! I best hurry home, lest I would like to cause my grandparents grief." she thought aloud, before gathering her daisy chains in her skirt, and ran home as fast as she could allow herself. What felt like hours passed, and she heard not one shouting of her grandparents calling her name. An echo called out in the distance, sounding like it was calling for her. At first Naomi furrowed her brow in confusion, for she swore she thought she heard the voices calling out the word Death. But earnestly she ignored the words and followed them.
"Mama, is that you? Don't worry, Mama! I'm coming!" she called, picking up her speed, thus barely feeling the ground as she flew back to her house. She saw the church lanterns in the distance, to her meaning that past the graveyard would mean that she would only have a few seconds left before reaching home. With her little heart beating rapidly, she sprinted home, excited and anxiously awaiting the warm greetings that would meet her at her house. She felt her hear skip a beat, once she heard the echo call out to her again, this time coming from somewhere on her left. Naomi frantically looked to her left and right, making sure that she heard the voice right.
"Mama, are you saying that I should cut through the graveyard to get home?" she whined, fisting her hips indignantly, as the echo coaxed her into walking through the silent and foggy cemetery. Naomi stepped carefully around the tombstones carefully, knowing that it was disrespectful to walk through people's graves. She apologized every time she stepped in front of someone else's tombstone.
"Oh, goodness! Pardon me, I didn't mean to step on you! I should have known better." she whispered, as she wandered closer and closer to the very center of the graveyard. She stopped, and looked around her person in despair.
"Oh, no! I-I think I'm lost!" she whispered, as she cowered  behind quivering, fisted hands. With every despaired shiver she let out, she inched her back closer and closer to the tomb behind her. Naomi flinched, once the back of her summer dress touched the cold, dead granite of a sepulcher. She jumped, and sighed. She walked up to the stony coffin, now bathed pale and white in the moonlight.
"I am so sorry I stumbled upon you, dear friend. It's just that I've lost my way, and while trying to find a shortcut to my grandmother's house, I happened to get myself lost in a cemetery!" at the very end of her sentence her voice cracked with grief, making her shudder with the fears that she could not possibly find her way home through the cemetery, now that the night was as black as pitch, and the fog made it implausible to see where one was heading off to. The stony, hard gaze of the grim reaper atop the towering tombstone behind the little girl, softened to a sympathetic smile, once he heard the frightened and heartbroken sobs of the young girl. The reaper floated down from his perch atop the tomb, and placed a bony hand on the girl's shoulder. Naomi jumped, and sniffled, once she saw whom had startled her.
"Wh-who are y-you?" she stammered. The grim reaper gave the girl a small smile, patted her shoulder.
"Just a friend of many, my child. Come, take my cloak. You'll catch a cold if you stay out here without something warmer to wear." the reaper replied, holding out his cloak for the girl. Naomi accepted it gratefully, and wiped her eyes with the hem of the cloak sleeve. Naomi listened to the sad, hollow tones of the strange person's voice, and realized that he had another cloak underneath the cloak he had given her. Naomi curtsied half-heartedly, and wiped her nose on the sleeve of the cloak.
"If you please- can you help me find my way out of here?" she asked, sniffling for the last time. The reaper smiled, and shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that. I'm afraid you cannot go back to your home with your grandmother and grandfather." his voice echoed. Naomi recognized the voice immediately.
"You're the one who called me here! The echo!" she exclaimed. The reaper nodded, and placed a hand on her head, making the girl beam proudly.
"In a round-about-way, yes." he said with a smile. Naomi nodded, and furrowed her brow in thought.
"But whatever do you mean, I cannot go back home? And why were you calling out the word Death? Does that mean something in this cemetery?" she pouted, her young voice turning up into a confused whine.  The reaper sighed, and urged her forward, keeping a skeletal hand on her shoulder. The two walked for a ways, until they came to a large sepulcher of granite. It was mossy, and seemed to Naomi like it had been there for years.
  "What is this place?" she wondered aloud, looking around them anxiously. The reaper looked from the girl to the tomb in an empathetic way.
"These," the reaper paused, letting the little girl absorb his melancholy words. Naomi's gaze followed the skeletal hand of her companion, as the reaper gestured to the tomb in front of them.
"These are your grandparents." he said, his words unwillingly seeping into Naomi's skin. She glanced between the tomb and the reaper in horror.
"No-! It can't be them! It mustn't!" she whispered, her chin trembling terribly from grief. The reaper watched in empathy, as the little girl crouched onto the ground to read the tomb's epitaph.
"Here lies Doctor and Misses Merryl P. Vandertramp. Born December 25, 1827, and May 25, 1829. Died October 31, 1910." Naomi felt terrified tears slide down her cheeks, stinging her chapped lips as they fell to the ground. The reaper sighed, and pulled the girl gently up from the ground, to stop her from reading anything else. Naomi stood, and clung to the reaper's robes, cowering behind their silky-blackness. The reaper patted her head, and wrapped a bony arm around her shoulder. As he did his best to comfort her, the reaper tried not to look down at the rest of the tomb's epitaph, for he knew what it said. With the last of her sniffles, she looked down at the tomb for the last time.
"I guess that means you'll have to stay with your Aunt Patty for a while. Oh, that reminds me!" he said, his skeletal smile brightening up a bit at remembering an important detail that he needed to explain to his feminine friend. "I called out Death, because that is your name, in these parts. Your other name is not used in cemeteries, for that is not who you are at all." the reaper said at last, making Naomi look up in wonder.
"Yes, but...how do you know my Aunt Patty? And what do you mean, exactly? That Naomi is not my name at all?" she asked.Naomi knew that that was not her own name, as she had made it up herself, and decided to call herself that ever since she was smaller. But being called by the name of Death as her own name, it just didn't sound very nice. It sounded rather dreadful, to be quite blunt. The reaper shrugged, not wanting to give away the real reason he knew the little girl's aunt.
"Her son died of pneumonia a few years ago. Six years old, the poor child." he whispered. Naomi nodded, as she remembered that day, as well.
"Oh, that was terrible. Poor Aunt Patty. And now she's as hard as these stone tombs from grief." Naomi replied, making the reaper chuckle in amusement from the child's half-hearted words. He then turned to face the girl, and pointed in the direction of an abandoned school house that was a short step away.
"You see that school house, over yonder by the cathedral?" the reaper asked. Naomi looked in the indicated direction and nodded. The reaper smiled at her, then nodded.
"That way is a shortcut to your Aunt's house. Knock three times on the schoolhouse door, and whisper the password." he said softly, leaning down to the girl's ear level. Naomi stared at the school house as if enchanted by its lonesome entity. She then frowned at her companion's words.
"Password?" she asked, and looked at the reaper, who smiled, and whispered the strange incantation in her ear. She gasped, once she understood the words' meaning.
"But that's a Devil spell!!" she whispered, horrified that she had to speak these forbidden words. She had never spoken Latin, and all of her teachers advised her against speaking it in public. For though the language helped in education, it was not a language that could be used in proper conversation at that present time. It was also considered the Devil's language, spoken only in church by the holiest of fathers. The reaper chuckled, and stood up.
"Ah, so you know the language of Death, then? Well, then that should help you with pronouncing the words correctly! It is your own language, after all," was all he replied, gently nudging the girl towards the abandoned school house. Naomi took two steps forward, then glanced over her shoulder at the reaper, who was began to wave goodbye. Naomi waved back, then hesitantly frowned at the companion she was leaving behind.
"When will I see you again?" she called, watching in melancholy horror, as her new friend began to disappear in the wind, which was picking up speed at an alarming rate. She barely heard the reaper's voice echo through the wind, which was starting to blow Naomi off her feet, and onto the ground.
"Don't worry! Fate shall see us together, again!" Naomi nodded, then covered her face with her arms, trying to shield herself against the violent wind. With a final step, she began to mount the steps of the old school house, knocking thrice against the rotting doorframe. She could barely hear the whisper of a question being asked of her against the wind.
  "Who sends ye?" a scruff voice asked Naomi. She grunted against the effort of the wind, as she thought of an answer.
"A friend of many!" she shouted, trying speak over the roar of the oncoming storm. The voice grunted in response.
"Hmph. Friend of many, eh? And what does he want this time? Tell 'em we're all out o' snail tongues, and the next time he wants to borrow a shark's bladder, tell 'em to get it hisself, 'cause Rodder ain't getting 'em anymore." he shouted to Naomi. Naomi shuddered from the things she heard, but proceeded anyway.
"He sends me back to my Aunt Patty's house. She lives on Forty-third Street, number three hundred and-" Naomi shouted, feeling the wind blowing her off her feet. Rodder grunted and shook his head.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. At least it's not a shark's bladder. Alrigh', you can come in." he said, turning towards the rest of the school house, expecting the visitor to open the door themselves, and waltz right in, as Friend always did. Naomi, however, was not able to open the door herself, as the wind began to blow sharper, and sharper against her feet, lifting her off the porch steps, and into the stormy clouds above. Rodder turned around and squished his ear onto the rotting doorframe, shaking his head.
"Oh, no, no Love. Youssee, ya have to say the password." he retorted. Naomi fought against the wind, and grabbed onto the door knob, trying to maintain a vise-like grip on the knob to keep from flying away.
"VENI VEDI EGO AUTEM MORTUUS SUM!!" she screamed, as the wind started pulling against her grip on the doorknob. Rodder cleaned his ear with a grubby finger, and shook his head.
"Sorry, love. I can't hear a thing you just said." he retorted, making Naomi scream from her efforts against the wind.
"VENI VEDI EGO AUTE-AAHHHHHHH!!!!" she screamed, the wind finally making her let go of the doorknob. Before she flew too far away from the schoolhouse, the door swung open, and Rodder pulled her into a protective embrace from the wind, and pulled her inside the schoolhouse, where Naomi realized much too late that she was too big to fit inside the schoolhouse. She gasped, and tried to push against the ceiling of the building, cramping herself up into a large ball. She winced from the feeling of the ceiling pressing down on her head, and wrinkled her nose at the smell of the place. Her eyes snapped open, when she heard the cackling of three voices below the bottom of her shoe. She lifted her shoe out of the way, and looked down below her. There stood three witches, stirring and muttering into a bubbling cauldron. Naomi gasped from surprise.
"Witches! Real witches!" she whispered. One of the witches looked up at Naomi, and chuckled.
"Of course we're real, ducky. As real as the full moon itself." she replied. Another witch snorted, and cackled loudly.
"Oh, you said it Moonbeam! Can't be anything more real than us, right sister?" she asked the witch next to her. A shorter, pudgier witch nodded, and looked up at Naomi, who looked down at the witches in surprise.
"Heh heh heh. Looks like our new friend is in a wee bit of a shock, eh Rodder?" Moonbeam chuckled, looking over at the doorman light-heartedly. Rodder grumbled under his breath, and crossed his arms indignantly. Naomi looked over at Rodder, who stared outside the door window at the storm. Naomi looked back at the witches, and tried to keep her voice from shaking the rotting cabin.
"Pardon me, uh, Mrs. Moonbeam?" she asked hesitantly, watching the witch dump what looked like a jar of salamanders into the cauldron. The witch muttered an incantation, and looked up at Naomi.
"Oh please, ducky. Call me Moonbeam. No need fer formalities. We're all friends here." Moonbeam cooed to Naomi, who nodded, and looked over at Rodder, who was still pouting in the corner.
"Of course, M-Moonbeam. But who is he?" Naomi asked, indicating Rodder. The witches giggled, and waved their hands towards the cauldron, as if bowing to the boiling brew.
"That there is our doorman, Rodder. Say hello, Roddy dear!" Moonbeam called, making Rodder turn his ugly head towards the witches, grunting in anger. Moonbeam chuckled, and turned back to her cauldron, which had begun to boil violently. Naomi looked over at the doorman, then back at Moonbeam, who was shaking a ladel at the fatter witch angrily.
"How many times have I told you, Hildegarde? The chicken lungs are supposed to be added after the dragon eggs have fermented! Haven't you been reading the scrolls, I put you in charge of?" Moonbeam screeched, making the pudgy witch grimace profusely.
"Y-yes, I have been reading the scrolls...but it says that we're supposed to add the dragon eggs first, before adding in the chicken lungs-." Moonbeam snatched the scroll from under Hildegarde's nose, and scanned the scroll feverishly.
"Add the fermented dragon's eggs to the brew, then adding the stewed chicken lungs, (murmur). Oh! Here it is! When making homemade Transportation potions, be sure to add the chicken lungs after the dragon's eggs have fermented for one century." she nodded, then scooped a gnarled finger through the mysterious brew, sipping every suspicious drop off her fingertip. Moonbeam licked her lips with her indigo tongue in deep thought.
"Hmm...could use a bit more something...here, child! What do you think it needs?" the head-witch demanded, as she stuck a gnarled claw into the gaping mouth of Naomi. The young girl licked her lips delicately, contemplating the taste of the peculiar brew. After a few moments, she began aloud.
"Hmm...could use a small pinch of cinnamon." she said at last, nodding in confident assurance of her decision. She gasped, and covered her mouth in shock. The other three witches nodded in understanding.
"That's the work of a beautiful magic, my dear." Hildegarde smiled, patting the immensely large calf of Naomi, who could only nod. The other witch nodded sweetly, and walked over to Naomi's other leg, which towered over the skinny witch's head like a tree.
"Our magic is special child. It only manifests itself in those who appreciate the sacrifices of nature. When most people try a few mere drops of our brew, they are left speechless, and disgusted by the ingredients of our potions." she said softly. Hildegarde nodded and looked up at Naomi's interested expression.
"You're different." concluded the skinny witch. Naomi looked up in surprise, and stared blankly ahead.
"I'm...different?" she remarked. Hildegarde, and the skinny witch nodded. Moonbeam looked up form the cauldron, at the two witches and Naomi.
"Very different indeed, child. You not only thought about the different tastes of the potion, but you also knew what ingredient to add to the brew, much before we thought of what was needed ourselves. It takes real knowledge of magic to pull off something so experienced." Moonbeam replied, making Naomi blush with embarrassment. The skinny witch patted Naomi's large calf comfortingly.
"Why, you're blushing child! Whatever for?" she asked. Naomi, didn't want to look down into the spirited eyes of the witches as of yet. The experiences she had growing up, and the experiences she had just encountered she felt were not exactly appropriate to share.
"I've had...experiences with magic in the past. Fairies live in our vegetable garden at home, and I pay homage to the fairies, by giving them an eggcup of blackberry jam, for you see; they're the ones who make our gardens so prosperous. Although I have a green thumb, it's the fairies that ensure bountiful harvests every season." Naomi replied, looking down at Moonbeam. The head witch nodded, and stroked her scrawny chin thoughtfully.
"Fairies, aye? That explains why our toadroot has been hopping all over the place." she mumbled. She looked up at Naomi, and pointed a gnarled claw up at her.
"You bring any fairy magic with you, when you entered the graveyard?" she demanded. Naomi blinked in surprise, and tapped her chin in thought.
"I don't recall ever seeing any fairies with me. I saw a few butterflies, but those couldn't have been fairies..." she thought aloud. She looked down at the witches' faces, which were filled with utter shock.
"You say you saw butterflies...here in the cemetery?" Hildegarde demanded, flinching away from Naomi's massive calf. Naomi frowned, and leaned over her knees, which were becoming progressively stiff from being scrunched up so tight.
"Yes, I did. And why do you flinch? They were only butterflies. Hardly a threat I assume," Naomi retorted, furrowing her eyebrows in curious doubt. Hildegarde shrieked, and ran over to Moonbeam, who grimaced in horror at Naomi. The skinny witch ran over to Moonbeam's side, and cowered into her shoulder. Lightning flashed outside the schoolhouse, thunder shaking and threatening the witch's hideout.
"They've found us, m'lady! They've found us!" The skinny witch shrieked, covering her mouth in horror. Hildegarde frowned, and smacked her arm.
"We're not going to die, Margaret! The fates permitted us one more century, before they turn us in!" Hildegarde scolded, shaking her head of ruddy curls at the witch, before turning back to Moonbeam.
"But what do we do, Moony? They came here for something-" Hildegarde whimpered. Moonbeam shook her head, and pointed her warty finger at Naomi, who jumped from the indication.
"It's not us they want, Hildegarde. It's her!" she whispered. Naomi furrowed her brow in suspicion, and fisted her hips indignantly.
"And just who are they, exactly?" she demanded, looking from one witch to the other. All three witches were too busy cowering and trembling in Naomi's presence to even take into account what she had demanded. Naomi was about to scold them, when she felt a tugging on the skirt of her dress. She looked down in surprise, and saw Rodder the doorman trying to grab her attention. Naomi's frown softened into a smile, as she leaned down close to the shy doorman.
"What is it, Mister Rodder?" she asked softly. Rodder pointed to the back of the schoolhouse, where a dusty, old chalkboard was plastered in the shadows.
"A transportation spell is all I'll need to get you home, miss Death." Rodder replied, as he pointed from the blackboard, to the cauldron. Naomi nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the witches, who had formed a huddle to discuss something of importance. Naomi looked back over at Rodder, who gave her a gentle pat on her forearm. Naomi smiled, then looked over his shoulder at the chalkboard.
"So where is this door, exactly?" she asked, as she looked around the room. She stole a glance behind her at the only physical door in the schoolhouse. The entrance door jumped, banged, and fought against the worsening storm outside. Naomi's eyes widened in shock, as she looked back at the doorman, who was now waving his hands over the steam of the cauldron.
"Don't look back at the door, miss Naomi. The storm is an omen. An evil omen who drags innocent souls to the Netherworlds." he called, warning Naomi against the dangers outside the schoolhouse. Naomi gasped, and crawled over to the cauldron, barely noticing that she had begun to shrink to a size that allowed her to crawl. She sat on her heels, and looked into the swirling, soupy mass of the cauldron. She watched the doorman swirl the potion around and around, mixing and blending the ingredients together.
  "Watch the cauldron carefully, and tell me the words that appear in the cloud." was all he replied, before he stirred a few more times. Naomi frowned, and opened her mouth to ask a question. The thought "What cloud?" had barely begun to form in her head, when a translucent, violet cloud swirled over the cauldron, making everything smell of lavender and licorice. Naomi wrinkled her nose at the smell; as the smell was not a particularly pleasant one. She shook her head, then gazed into the cauldron. After a few minutes of gazing, her eyes happened upon a few letters arranging themselves into words; words she had never seen nor imagined. Word by word she spoke them aloud, pronouncing them as best as she could muster herself to. Rodder helped her all the way, correcting her on the words that she mispronounced. When the whole ordeal was over, Naomi shifted her posture, and looked at Rodder, who nodded, and inhaled deeply, before exhaling as slow as he could. With a final breath, Naomi watched in fascination, as Rodder waved his arms sharply, yet gracefully around the cauldron and Naomi. Naomi blinked, and watched in awe, as Rodder finished his strange dance, by waving his arm to the chalkboard at the back of the schoolhouse. Naomi watched anxiously, wondering what on Earth could possibly happen from there. For a while nothing happened, just Rodder, and Naomi sat and watched the chalkboard anxiously. Naomi was about to beg for Rodder's attention, when Naomi felt a breeze blow past her neck. Shivering, she wiped at the place she felt the breeze, and looked around. Her gaze fell upon the door of the schoolhouse, which now began to flap violently against the wind of the storm. Naomi gasped in horror, as the thought hit her, that it was no longer safe in the schoolhouse. Rodder looked up at Naomi, sweat beading up on his furrowed brow, as he tried to concentrate on opening the portal, and protecting Naomi. Naomi shrieked, and looked around helplessly.
"Lady Moonbeam? Hildegarde? Margaret? Anyone? Help us!" Naomi shrieked, feeling somewhat helpless against the turbulent wind, which now started to suck everything out of the schoolhouse. One by one, spellbooks, scrolls, jars, and the like was sucked off its shelves, and into the gaping emptiness if the world outside. Only Rodder, Naomi, and the chalkboard remained steadfast inside the room. Naomi screamed, when she began to slide towards the doorway.
"Butterflies, fairies, magic and more...help me stop this monster door!" Naomi screamed, feeling the spell poured out of her terrifies lips. All at once, the butterflies from the meadow began fluttering around her, swirling trails of glittering magic around and around Naomi's person. Naomi smiled, and giggled at the sight. She felt herself lift with delight, as she watched the butterflies flutter around her, echoes of the spell she shouted waving around in the wind. With a final nod, Naomi grinned, and gave the ajar door a confident glare. With a deep breath, and a wave of her arm, she began the incantation.
"Magic from across the moor, help me close this ghastly door!" she shouted, feeling a surge form from her heart to her open fingertips. Then all at once, a huge wave of water as light as the sun crashed upon the door, closing it with the force of a tsunami. Once the door had finally been closed, Naomi sighed happily, and grinned at the butterflies, who had now begun to flutter closer to her face. Naomi all at once felt a warm glow ease upon her flushed skin, and turned to look at the back of the room. What she saw surprised her greatly. She saw not the blackboard, but herself, sweating and flushing profusely in an ornate bed. A lit candle was next to her head, and a middle-aged woman was wiping her forehead with a cloth, before leaving her bedside. Naomi gasped.
"Is that me?" she wondered aloud, wondering what to do next. She frowned, and looked to the butterflies, who fluttered towards the glowing scene. "I should go there? But what will happen? How will I know that that's the place to go?" she asked the butterflies, who flew between Naomi, and the glowing picture. With a final sigh, Naomi nodded, and walked forward, passing through the chalkboard with barely a thought in her pretty, little head...

  Naomi awoke gasping and sweating. She squinted her eyes in the bright light around her, and winced from the light. She heard the echoes of someone close by. She squinted, and instantly her vision began to clear up. She saw her aunt smirking down upon her.
"Had a rough night, did you? You scared half the maids, with that horrid sleep-talking of yours, you know!" her aunt Patty retorted, wiping her niece's sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. Naomi groaned, and held a hand over her eyes to block out the light.
"Wha-where am I? And why is it so bright in here?" she griped, squinting her eyes against the brightness of her surroundings. Aunt Patty laughed, and waved a hand around the room.
"You're in your room, silly! It's midday, and you're just in time for our tea party!"  she squealed, before glaring at the chamber maid in the doorway.
"Annalise?! What did I say about giving the lord pink napkins?!!!" she screeched, stomping over to the doorway. The chamber maid quivered, and inched out into the hallway.
"...to not to...?" she stammered, as Aunt Patty's sour expression sent shivers down the maid's spine. Naomi through all of this just flopped back onto her pillow, and tried to sleep away a headache. She instantly remembered the sequences in the cemetery from that night, and sat bolt-right up in bed. Her aunt looked over at her curiously, and raised an eyebrow.
"Naomi, sweetie? What's the matter?" she asked, walking out of the bedroom to give her niece some time to wake up. Naomi just stared ahead.
"Aunt Patty, why am I here? I should be going back to Nanna's house..." she said. Patty looked at the maid out of the corner of her eye, and ushered her downstairs. Patty followed behind, but stopped short to close the door. She turned to look at Naomi with a strange frown.
"Naomi Mortua, sweetie. Your grandparents have been dead for eight years. You were only two when they passed away, so I'm surprised that you would still remember them. Come down when you feel better, okay?" she replied, closing the door softly behind her. Naomi barely nodded, shocked at what she had heard. She barely noticed the door close, as her aunt's words echoed through her head. Died eight years ago. They died. Eight years ago. Naomi blinked, and could barely move a muscle from shock. Outside, thunder began to announce the lightning's presence in the skies. A dangerous storm threatened impending doom on the little girl. The little girl named Death.