ACNL: The Nightmare of Aika

The Train

We'd left the train station at 8pm during a light, lazy rain shower.

I always found those to be relaxing, especially when I needed to travel. I could happily flip open my trusty notebook, and let the genius ideas flow. Usually, I was alone. This time, I had a tag-along, and for once, it wasn't Mayor Kosei. Kenshin –the only other human in our small town of Seaside aside from myself and the Mayor—stared out the window.

I sat crosslegged in the seat with my notebook in my lap, and my blue sneakers on the floor. I listened to the rhythmic 'clakkity clak' of the train moving at an even clip through the sheets of pattering rain. Rivulets of water rolled up the glass from wind resistance. It was the perfect night to write a horror story—something I had never attempted before. I clicked open my pen and set to work on my future masterpiece.

It was a dark and stormy night-

"You can't start a story like that," Kenshin stated in a bland tone.

"Huh? Why not? It's a perfectly good mood-set line." I asked. It seemed fine to me.

"Firstly, it begins in a passive voice."

My eye twitched. Go figure this nerd would know that. He reads all the time. I thought my living room was book-loaded, but his is basically a library.

"Secondly, it's plagiarism," He folded his arms. "Ever read a book called 'Paul Clifford?'"

Here we go; unsolicited information straight from the walking encyclopedia. "Never heard of it."

He dug a paperback novel from his red backpack and handed it to me.

The spine was heavily creased from use, and bore rough edges where the paper peeled off in thin slivers. It looked like someone had used it to prop up a table. "Was this a lost item you forgot about?"

"I borrowed it from Chief."

"And you just happened to have this particular book pertaining to what I'm doing on a whim right now."

He shrugged.

I flipped it open to the first page where a black and white profile photo of a floppy-eared dog stared pensively into the distance, and noted the check-out stamp date. This book was way over due from the 1970's from the Barksdale Public Library. I'd never heard of that town before. I frowned at the tiny print barely existing at the bottom. "It says the original printing was in 1830. This is public domain by now." I gave it back. "Why should you care if I use that line?"

He put it away. "It's also a dumb beginning and a trope."

"Your face is a dumb beginning and a trope."

He stared at me, confused and in thought –probably one of the six emotions he'd managed to get back from Dr. Shrunk. "That didn't make sense."

"Throwing your backpack into the seat and calling 'dibbs!' when we got on the train doesn't make sense, either." I stuffed my notebook back in my satchel.

"Neither did that."

I huffed in exasperation. I was already 100% done with this fool since he'd snatched up the window seat before I had a chance to sit down. There were two pigs sleeping on each other taking up the seats in front of us, so that wasn't an option. I was stuck on the isle. I hated the isle.

I glanced to two tabby cats having a quiet conversation at the front of the car, sat back, and sighed. The little girl sitting by the opposite window from me didn't seem to care about us at all. She simply played with her doll, tying and untying the strings of the orange hood on its head. The color didn't match the red of its dress, but both dolly and child had matching crimson mary jane shoes. She kicked her feet idly as she hummed a tune I'd never heard before. It was light and bouncy, like her long, curly auburn hair. The only item to tame them was a blue and white winter hat in the same style as the doll's.