Hey all..  sorry the first part is so short!  I've beeen SOOOOO busy
with things that I haven't gotten any chance to write!!!  So forgive me
if I miss a day over the next week!  I will try to keep up tho!!  Part
two should be much longer!!!  Anyway here's the first installment of
the next The Grand Ferret Adventures Stories!!  Enjoy!!
 
- Jules
 
ps.  I hope the formatting doesn't get messed up this time!  Forgive me
if it does!!!
 
The Grand Ferret Adventures
This Week's Episode:
Van Helsing Von Furret In: The Phantom of The 113th Street Cemetery
 
Part One
 
It was a cold, dark, stormy October night in Windy Willows, England.
Rain poured down in torrents as wind battered tree branches up against
the windows of the castle at 15 Cherry Lane.  Thunder rolled and
lightning flashed so often it was as if nature was turning on strobe
lights and dance beats for a personal rave.  Inside the house eerie
statues were revealed with every flash.  Replicas of winged creatures,
giant hairy monsters, wolves, and gargoyles lined the tops of bookcases.
Paintings dotted the wall; grand battle scenes that appeared to move
when just out of sight.  Portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you as
you walked along and sketches of odd-looking machines with gears that
like illusions turned.  The books on the shelves varied as much as the
dEcor.  Old and new, foreign and domestic, history books and books of
legend all graced the old wooden shelves.  Edgar Allen Poe would have
felt right at home.  The furniture was old as well, mostly made of wood
and leather.  Spindly chairs cast disturbing shadows on the wall and like
a shadow itself a black shrouded figure rose from one of the chairs.  It
moved to the window, footsteps echoing through the chamber.  Standing as
still as one of the statues, it watched the storm.  Time held no power
over the moment, but suddenly a knock came at the door interrupting the
trance.
 
"Who could that be at THIS hour?" said the creature with an irritated
tone.
 
Crossing the room it passed through a door and stepped into a hallway.
Reaching up it turned on one of the oil lamps that lined the walls.  Warm
firelight flooded the hall chasing away the darkness and revealing the
creature to be a pitch-black ferret wearing equally dark attire of a
flowing lace up shirt and leather pants.  The ferret walked towards the
front door, turning on lamps as it went.  The lamps themselves were
pieces of artwork; cast iron angels and other creatures in various poses,
each illuminated by the flame atop it.  Whoever was at the door continued
to pound the door loudly between claps of thunder.
 
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" growled the ferret.  He reached to his belt
for his keys and with one hand on a cleverly concealed knife he unlocked
and opened the door.  Standing on the stoop, as much out of the rain as
possible, was a soaking wet rat.
 
"M-Mr. Von F-F-Furret?" Sputtered the Rat through chattering teeth.
 
"Yes, I am he.  Come in out of the rain, Lad!" he said ushering the rat
inside, locking the door behind him.
 
"Th-thank you, Sir!" said the rat as Von Furret took his coat.
 
"Come, come sit in the kitchen by the fire and warm up!" he coaxed, his
aggravation melting away at the pitiful sight.  "And leave your boots
by the door!"
 
The rat followed Von Furret through a maze of hallways casting sideways
glances at the paintings, which in turn cast sideways glances at him.
Within minutes the ferret opened a great wooden door and went through,
the shaking, wet rat on his heels.
 
"Ah, Carlos, you're here. Good"
 
"Van!  What are you doing here and whom might I ask is that?" replied a
badger who was sitting by the hearth reading a book.
 
"Oh um, I don't know.  He was at the door."
 
"Do you mean to tell me you didn't even ask his name, Van?" the badger
said with a stern look.
 
"Ah, um, no."
 
As the plump badger, who looked anything but pleasant, lectured the
ferret in black about manners, the young rat looked around.  The room
was dimly lit by a crackling fire, a few flickering candles, and a lamp.
Herbs hung from the ceiling while jars of spices and flours sat on tables
and shelves.  The walls were stone, as was the floor, the fireplace was
large and to the cold rat it looked quite inviting.  He sighed and
started to inch his way over to it, but his movement seemed to catch the
attention of the badger.
 
"Oh my heavens, here I am lecturing Van about manners and I go and make
a hypocrite of myself.  What is your name lad?  What brings you here?"
he said, taking on a more friendly expression.
 
"My name is Ioan Dragos Bratiano and I was sent to bring Mr. Van Helsing
Von Furret a message from my father, Octavian Nicolae Bratiano," he
replied, staring longingly at the fire.
 
"Well, isn't that a mouthful.  Let's sit down by the fire and you can
tell us your message over some bread and cheese."
 
What is Ioans Message?  What could he possibly want on such a dreary
night?
 
Join us tomorrow for the next installment of Van Helsing Von Furret in:
The Phantom of The 113th Street Cemetary
[Posted in FML issue 4676]