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]