Coraline Sequel - Horrors at Night

Ms. Lovatt

Ms Lovatt sat in her rickety old rocking chair with three legs. Her weight made the experience somewhat frightening as she absent-mindedly knitted mixed colours together to form an unknown shape, but far worse things had taken place.

She feared for the blue-haired girl, the one with the strange name. How her strange, collapsed mind mingled with childish day dreams were brought to life in astonishing story-telling. An un-reliable asset for growing girls.

The day Coraline had confronted Ms Lovatt about the woman on the other side of the house, it got her thinking. What if the girl had someone else to play with, someone else to take her mind off of things? Then, at least, Wybie would be safe from an un-yielding future.

The family she had sought out was small and stereotypical. Two parents, a small, polite yet adventurous child, and a large, happy dog, which was so happy as to be named 'Joy.' 

The apartment was the largest out of the four in the Pink Palace. It consisted of a kitchen, dining room, two bathrooms and three bedrooms, as well as a small rumpus room for the child to play in.

The child. The second child that was to be allowed to live in The Pink Palace Apartments. Ms Lovatt gazed at the cracked, dull ceiling above her greying head, thinking how she could have been so concerned as to not rent the place out to people with children. The reason was equivalent to that of nonsense - the day her sister had been supposedly kidnapped.

She never saw anything that might have lead to clues or suspicion on that gloomy day. Only the delinquent recourses that somebody with a savage mind had willingly stolen a little girl. Only God knows where she was to this day. Maybe alone, or maybe even married with two small children of her own.

Ms Lovatt crossed her heart and recited a prayer in her crowded mind. Thoughts of her grandson had begun to develop, and they were not of the good kind.  

The boy had been placed into her custody after his two parents were killed in a house fire. He had no other relatives to turn to, and Ms Lovatt was forced to take care of him, no matter how hard she protested. She never told this to the boy, who was, at this stage of his early life, confused as to why he was not trusted with such information. In fact, Ms Lovatt enjoyed the risk free life with no children. She had already had one of her own, and did not relish on the statement that two of her family members had both died in a moment of their youths.

And as much as the old woman dismissed the boy, she did not want to see his gravestone any time soon.

It is not to be said that she wasn't a good grand-mother, because she was. Every night, she cooked nice, homemade meals, and even paid the child's school fees, picking him up from the old, crumbling school at 3.30 in the afternoons. She gave him things to do on rainy days, although most of that included exploring.

Which lead to the Coraline girl.

She was odd, that one. Never in her life had Ms Lovatt experience the enthusiastic measures such a girl would take to do such an activity. She would not tolerate dolls, or shoes, or pencils, yet managed to rely on objects such as stones and mud and twigs. A few months back she even saw Coraline playing with a rusty hand attached to no body. It was queer, how such children chose their playthings without fear.

Wybourne had run off with the silly girl to explore. Off to the Pink Palace, Ms Lovatt expected. She was considering telling her grandson the disproval she sought when looking into Coraline's deep, thoughtful eyes. Such an imagination. Such creativity.

Such dangers.

Wybourne was the name she had intimately given the boy when he arrived on her doorstep. Why was he born, it basically stated. Of course, in her mind, he never questioned why his name had such a depressing back story. And he would never know. After all, what would be the fun in having a name that basically spelled out the death of his two parents?