PROLOGUE: Blackbrooks

This is not a new legacy.

This is something else.

Killed the momentum with the last post didn't I? One thing you should know about me is, I can't stop writer brain. So why don't we feast on this weird side story while we patiently wait for Christmas, shall we?

Without further ado, I present to you,

- - - - - - - The Olsen Secrets - - - - - - -

__________________________________________

"Urghhh... Jesus, where am I?" he muffled under his breath. His eyes flickered painfully, forcing him to rub them even though that didn't make it better.

"I was out cold? Good riddance!" he jolted up as he realized he was flat on the ground.
It was the rustles of the tall grasses that shook him to his senses.

As he stood up, he stumbled back on the hard ground.

"What the?" he grabbed his head. A new sensation swept through him. "Did I...-"

The words lingered in the air but he knew the answer to it without anyone having to spell it out for him. He had too much to drink last night when his buddies threw him a farewell party. And the strangest thing of all? He wasn't even a boozer.

But last night was an exception though.

"Where the hell am I?" despite having to deal with the worst hangover, he was more appalled by his surroundings. Thick grasses, gnarly branches, cold fogs and winding paths. Creepy; was the first impression he had to this strange place he woke up to.

It was only when he turned around that he realized there was actually a house right beside him. He stood still, staring at it for a while. It was old, somewhat tattered and looked like nobody had lived there for ages.

The only way to find out is to rummage the mailbox. He don't know why he was doing it. It's just a hunch. Or probably his hangover encouraging him. But who cares.

There were a bunch of mails inside. And surprisingly... All of it were for him!

"Waitta minute, waitta minute," he tried to make sense out of everything. "Am I in Twinbrook already?!"

He had forwarded his mails to his new place a month ago due to him hopping from one friend's house to another before he actually left for Twinbrook. But standing in front of his new house was unbelievably discouraging.

He didn't remember it looking like a shack when he visited his grandmother back when he was twelve. Heck, he's not even sure if this is the actual house!

His grandmother had left him with her most precious asset; a huge chunk of land in Twinbrook which includes the old house. Although she had long ago revealed they were not blood related, she had loved him the most amongst her real grandchildren.

He sniffed. Not because of the cold morning breeze. But because he was overwhelmed with emotions. If he'd knew his grandmother's was living in a poorly maintained house all these years, he would have left college and live with her instead.

The shack really portrayed how lonely her final days were.

Suddenly he heard steps. From afar, he saw it was a little kid. Or so it seemed like a little kid, judging from the size...

"What on earth!" he froze as he saw what was coming at him. "S-s-s-stop!"

His tongue numb with fear. His body stiffened as if he had a reflex armor. He didn't know what was the thing that had just ran up his steps acting like he wasn't there.

As he was still frozen, thoughts churned in his head, wondering what creature it reminds him off. - Nothing - He don't know what it is. The hangover had diminished his logic.

"What are you?!" he managed to exclaim in terror. "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm the papergirl," the thing answered. "What are you doing here?"

"Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!" he braved himself to scurry up the steps, almost tripping. "Scram! This is my house, you hideous thing!"

"Psycho!" screamed the black being in a pitch that pierced his ear drums. "I hope the witch eat you alive!"

"Jesus, what in tarnation was that?" he quickly searched his person for the key to the house. He wanted to get inside immediately. The hangover is making him seeing things.

The key clicked and turned smoothly, unlocking his new place.

Relief brushed over him as he stepped in. This is the house he remembered staying in a long time ago. The interior never changed, though it looks a lot smaller now that he's all grown up.

He reasoned to himself to use the bathroom before engaging on anything else.

After the hangover, comes the pang of hunger.

With the left over ingredients enough to spawn up something as simple as waffles, he wholeheartedly prepared his breakfast. It didn't matter if the stuffs in the cabinets had expired. He needed to fill his stomach stat.

He didn't manage to gobble up the whole thing though. The ingredients were indeed over their due dates. The waffle had a stale taste, must be the milk.

He then decided to drop by at the town to get some fresh groceries and what not. So he rang up the cab service. When he mentioned his address, there was a long pause and some murmurs at the end of the line.

"Okay, sir," said the operator. "Someone will be there shortly." And they hang up.

When the cab arrived, he was once again shocked. The driver looked like the bigger version of the black creature he saw this morning. He was taken aback by this occurrence. Now it became more confusing to him.

"God, how long does this hangover last anyway?" he said to himself before hesitantly getting into his ride.

He made sure he opened his eyes wide to scout the surrounding. Something tells him this isn't Twinbrook, but just as he declared that, they cab drove past the Green Iron.

Bummer, he grunted. That was a Twinbrook landmark alright.

Instead of looking out again, he studied the creature driving the cab. Everything looks humanly appropriate despite the fact that the driver's skin is pitch-coal-raven-jet-midnight black. He cringed just thinking about it.

Once he got off the cab, it wasn't relieving at all.

He now realized he's being surrounded by all this pitch black skinned humans.

He clumsily ran to a public restroom by the park to see if he's also pitch black. Just in case he didn't get the memo.

To his relief, he's normal... or at least just the way he is. But right now, he can't really tell if anything is normal or not. He hasn't seen another being like him yet.

For now, all he can hope for is that the pitch black people are indeed humans.

Once he's out in the open, his mental note didn't help him at all. He was still terrified of what he don't know about this old town.

"How can they possibly be human?!" he whispered under his breath, running into a shop, hoping for a refuge. He couldn't stand the shock.

But there was no such refuge at all, even the shopkeeper had a pitch black skin.

"Good day, sir," greeted the girl-being. "What can I do for you?"

His eyes scanned the room and he saw a huge bookcase and a lounge. This must be a bookstore, he thought.

"Uhm, uh... I'm looking for something to read," he uttered. "Anything would be fine."

"Step right in then," she gestured for him to follow her to the back. "We have some second hands around here. Feel free to look around, I'm sure you'll like something."

"Uhm, thanks," he was somewhat a little calm now. The girl-being sounded really nice, but he still has his suspicions.

As he pretended to browse the shelf in interest, a peculiar title caught his eye; The Swamp People. He took it in his hands and headed for the lounge.

While passing the counter, he had a good look at the girl-being. Every inch of her is of womanly figure. Only the skin tone was a little unbearable for him to be regarding her as human.

While he was immersed looking through the book that holds no answer for his curiosity, the shopkeeper went towards him. She had changed her clothes and he didn't realize when, or why she did that. Maybe her shift was over?

"So, you're not from around here, are you?" she stood right in front of him.

"Uh, yes," he replied, cautiously standing up. Preparing to make a run for it if anything were to happen. "How did you know?"

"Oh, please," she puffed off her hair which was blocking her shades. "Your skin is a sure-fire giveaway you don't belong here."

"What a relief!" he heaved a great sigh off his chest. He finally could release what he had been wanting to scream out since the whole morning. "I thought I was seeing things! Like something is wrong with my eyes or that I'm still drunk or something..."

"Y-you people are indeed pitch black skinned!" he kept on. "I can't believe this!"

"Good grief! You never heard of us?" she scoffed, although a little amused. "We're called Shadow People. - Well, actually no. But because of our skin condition, we're called by that name ever since."

"S-skin condition?" he wondered out loud, slightly inching a step back. If he were to make a run for it, now is the right time. But he didn't. "Is it contagious?"

"Goodness, no! What do you learn at school?" she giggled. "I was born this way. My gramps was already like this when he was born too. It's genetic so I don't really know how to explain the whole thing to you."

"That's really something," he frankly admit. "I honestly never heard of it. I mean, my granma's from here. I don't think I remember her telling me these things."

"What?!" the girl exclaimed. He wasn't sure what her expression was. He can't really see her facial definitions now that he looked closely. Just lips and a faint pair of eyes behind the glasses.

"So you're Granny Olsen's grandson?" now she sounded surprisingly happy. "Oh, why didn't I figure that out earlier? - I'm Sophia. What's your name?"

"Geo," he said. "Geo Vanglorious."