New York, 1924...

"Here you go Marcy," Joe said, handing Marcy a bag of Peanuts.

"Thanks Joe. Take it off my check," Marcy answered, walking down the street.

It was a cold Saturday morning in New York and black automobiles passed by so fast you hardly had time to blink. The sky was filled with stormy clouds, but it hadn't started to rain yet, and probably wouldn't for another half hour or so. Living so long in one place had given Marcy a pretty good feel for the weather.

Tall brick buildings loomed up on either side of her, inside people working at typewriters, printing machines, coffee tables, and ordinary desks. The same thing every hour of every day.

Wake up in the morning, eat breakfast, go to work, come back home, eat dinner, go to bed, then start all over again. That's how every day passed in the city. Sometimes Marcy wished she could just fly away and live up in the mountains where every day was an adventure!...Especially if you didn't know your way and got lost...

"GET YOUR NEWSPAPER RIGHT HERE!" a boy called from the side of the street.

"You'll never believe what I heard yesterday," a lady told her friend passing by.

"I bet you a million I won't," Marcy chuckled to herself.

People made her laugh. They always seemed to be going on about some little thing or other. She even did it herself! One of life's little quirks...Along with Platypus'.

Marcy finished off her peanuts and threw the bag in a trash can near the steps of the local Newspaper. Running in she nearly knocked over the statue of George Washington and barely managed to straiten it before anyone saw her. Then, straitening her dress color, she walked into the office with as much dignity as she could manage after nearly killing George Washington...Again...

"Marcy, there's a couple of letters here for you," Lucky mumbled through a piece of paper in his mouth.

"Who from?"

"I da'no. Random things."

"Thanks," Marcy nodded, grabbing them and walking to her desk.

They were all just a bunch of 'pills and bills' even though their weren't any actual pills.

"Anything interesting?" Marcy asked Britt who was scanning through short hand notes.

"Nope. Just a bunch of stuff about old Mrs. Lance."

"Mmm, well tell if you find anything worth writing about. Jim isn't gonna be happy if we come to him with another theater event."

"But those are the best kind," Britt said sarcastically.

"Hah, I'd have to agree with Jim on that one. We've had over a million stories on how Laura Channing and Devin Dancer are 'getting back together'. Personally, I think they should just retire to an undiscovered island."

I sat down at my desk and quickly pushed aside all the paperwork, placing the letters in the vacant spot and opening them one by one....And another....And another....And-

"Marcy! Phone call for you!" Lucky called.

Marcy quickly grabbed the phone to get away from those relentless bills and nearly fell out of her chair in the process.

"Hello?"

"Hey, um, Marcy, this is Tanya from the floor above you. There's a gentlemen here asking for you."

"What's his name?" Marcy asked, trying to recall a time when she had made an appointment.

"He says he's called Weland."

"What's his last name?"

"He won't say."

Slightly reluctant, Marcy gave her permission to Tanya, saying to show Weland the way down.

"What was that all about?" Britt asked.

He had the desk right across from Marcy.

"Um, I'm not sure. Someone was asking for me but I don't recall his name...Oh well, I'll probably recognize him when I see him...Or not."

"Are you sure you want to see him?" Britt asked.

"Why not?"

"He came in yesterday when you were on break and he seemed a bit...Peculiar."

"Why didn't you tell me Britt?"

"I forgot!" he answered innocently.

However, that was very possible because Britt was known for having a bad memory for those sorts of things...Along with Marcy herself...But that wasn't the point!

"What do you mean by 'peculiar'?" Marcy asked, starting to feel a bit on edge.

"I da'no," Brit shrugged.

"I guess something about the way he acted. He didn't seem normal...Here he comes!"

Marcy whipped her head around to see a tall man walking towards her, indeed very peculiar. He was wearing a long green jacket with the collar turned up, and he wore an old fashioned, dark red vest underneath with a white shirt, brown pants, and medieval looking boots. He had unruly blond hair and his face underneath had a square jaw, sunk in blue eyes, and a shy expression on it. As soon as Tanya pointed toward Marcy, the man walked swiftly toward her. Marcy quickly went back to what she was doing, trying not to seem on edge.

"Miss Clive?" he asked quietly.

Marcy looked up and made a sad attempt at a friendly smile.

"Yes?"

"My name is Weland. I hear you're the one who wrote this story about the old shed on 5th street," he said, handing Marcy a newspaper.

Marcy quickly scanned through it to find her story at the bottom.

"Yes, yes that's mine. Why?" she asked, nodding.

"It says that you found an old fashioned mobile closet. Did it have carvings all over it, of different mythical creatures?"

"Um...Yes, yes I believe so."

Weland seemed to contemplate for a minute, then he nodded his head and turned on his heel, saying thank you to Marcy and walking swiftly out the door.

Marcy sat back and bit her lip, thinking hard. Then she made up her mind and grabbed her camera, putting her coat on and walking towards the door herself.

"Where are you going?" Britt asked.

"I'm going back to that shed. I bet you five bucks he's heading back there, and I sense a good story behind it!" Marcy answered, running out the door.  

As she walked out onto the street she saw Weland turn the corner of Belling's and Grant, only two blocks away from the shed. He seemed to be in a bigger hurry then she was. As Marcy had predicted earlier, it started to rain, and rain hard. New York was known for it, after all. Weland seemed to feel as though he was being followed because he turned several times to look, but Marcy was use to it, being a reporter, and managed to stay out of his line of vision.

It took maybe five minutes to get to the shed and Marcy was curious to see how Weland would get in. The door was locked and the only people who had the keys were the owners and herself. Weland pulled his collar farther up around his neck in a sad attempt to keep the rain off, but after a minute of seeming casual, he quickly slipped some sort of pointy object into the key hole, wiggling it around a bit and then pulling the door opened.

"Well," Marcy said to herself, pulling out her note book and jotting down the fact that he knew how to pick a lock.

"You certainly know how to get around."

After she had waited a minute she quickly ran into the building herself, looking around for Weland. It wasn't a very big shed and didn't have any other rooms, but Weland wasn't there. She couldn't see him at least.

Marcy looked around a bit, peeking behind several stacks of crates and barrels, but luck was not on her side.

"Where in tarnation...?" she said to herself.

Then her eyes landed on the mobile closet. It was carved very intricately with mythical creatures and it sort of reminded Marcy of a tapestry. The same principles at least. The smooth wood was unblemished and the gold handles shone so bright they almost looked like they were melting. Not only was it pleasing to look at, but it was the only other place where someone could hide.

Marcy slowly reached out and turned the handle, the door swinging open with ease. To her surprise, there were still several coats and suits in it.

Why would anyone want to leave these in here? Marcy thought. Simple logic decided against it, and most people - most people, mind you - would think it rather ridiculous to leave perfectly good clothes in a valuable closet, inside a rotting building. When Marcy had checked the place out earlier she didn't bother to look inside the closet, not wanting to touch the shining handles for fear of somehow damaging them.

She stepped in lightly and was surprised to find how roomie it was, with lots of access space. It was dark and she couldn't see anything, so she simply felt her way around, trying to find a firm hold on someone's arm...Or something like that. Weland has to be in here! She thought logically (Marcy was a very logical thinker). There was no where else he could go.

Marcy held tight to her camera, wanting to snap a surprise picture of him, those usually being the best for putting in newspapers.

She slowly began to grow warmer and warmer, and she eventually pulled her scarf off and threw it on the floor. But then she had second thoughts. It probably wouldn't be very good if she left her scarf in the closet, just in case something happened that she didn't want to be a part of. However, when she bent back down to pick it up, she couldn't feel anything. There was nothing there! No scarf of any type, and more importantly, no floor! All she felt was empty space.

Suddenly something seized hold of her hand and yanked on it. Marcy screamed out in terror and dropped her camera, pulling as hard as she could to get free of the strong grasp. Just as she thought she was about to break free, she felt herself slipping downward. But where was downward? Marcy slipped farther and farther, falling into a deep pit of blackness. The hand was still pulling her down, deeper and deeper, but now she couldn't find the strength to resist. Round and round she went, deeper and deeper, falling down, down, down, into space. Lights suddenly appeared, flying all around her. She felt now as if she were floating in midair. The lights circled faster and faster until they were nothing more then a blur and within a split second she felt herself falling again at the speed of light.

Marcy screamed her heart out, feeling there was nothing else she could do. She kept falling, the lights constantly spinning around her.

She caught sight of something.

It looked like...Like a planet. And she was heading for it!

Realization hit her just as she fell into the sky above a green forest. She fell down, down, down, not slowing at all. The lights flew faster and faster around her and she crashed through the trees, zipping past a frightened squirrel and heading for the wet turf. Marcy screamed one last time, seeing the ground bellow her, coming closer at a deadly pace. 

- HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY EVERYONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! I'm SOOOOO excited about this new book. All of the characters (Well, most of them) are based off of people I know so I'm hoping they'll each have as complex and amazing personalities as real live people actually do. I write 300 words a day of this book, so I should be publishing a chapter once a week. It would be so amazing if you guys could stick around for the next chapters and if you liked this one then, as always, don't forget to vote and tell me what you think! Thanks :D - Anna