Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ever since Penelope - Penny - Jackson can remember, threads of various colors has surrounded her vision. They wrap around people, turning them into living mummies, engulfing their entirety. The exact moment she opened her eyes to the world, she was greeted with an array of humanoid baby blue yarn instead of the visage of her smiling mother.

She has long accepted this reality. Of never being able to see people’s appearance. Of never being able to look at her mother in the eye or the kind smile that grace her. It was the sole reason why she never learned expressions and what they were. What was a smile when she cannot see what it was?

Her mother tried to be understanding. They both tried different things. She once tried to show her to a movie but even through a screen the people still were humanoid clumps of warn of differing colors. Even through photos! (Photos! Unbelievable, right!?) Her source of guide for not ending up as an expressionless child were cartoons and some animes that aired in TV. As hard as it was to get the television to go to a channel that wasn’t ESPN or Sports related due to a certain someone.

She could only see inanimate objects. Though the trees are visible, some they have a single line wrap around there trunk. Though other than literal objects, she could see herself clearly.

Penny could see her jet black hair, her sea green eyes that was mesmerizing to look at. Call her narcissistic, or Narcissus incarnate for being obsessed with staring at the mirror to look at herself, but it was the only face she could see that wasn’t a professionally crafted yarn monster.

Though there was one that she could see clear and never seen again. Her memory was perfect. She could recall every single detail. So she remembered the day when she was a newborn, when Sally just recently gotten out of the hospital. It was the middle of the night and she Penny awoke, instead of her thread wrapped mother, a beautiful man came to soothe her to sleep.

He looked like her.

That was her only memory of that man. It was her only memory of someone that wasn’t threads.

She accepted it long ago that she’ll never be able to see normally. Penny was never diagnose nor will she ever try to get a diagnosis for ‘People are colorful yarn threads’, but people slowly accepted that she had face blindness instead.

Then all of sudden. Without a rhyme or reason, the threads all vanished. So instead of a whole clump of humanoid yarn, the threads, wrap around their arms like bracelets. Penny screamed so loud when her vision cleared. What was a world of bountiful colors was replaced with faces. Faces that she could never forget, forever ingrained in her mind like parasites.

(Gabe Ugliano’s ugly mug was forever etched in her memory that she wanted the threads to return and cover him up.)

So 7 year old Penny was stuck never forgetting. She already had perfect recall of everything, now faces too?

Though she was very grateful that they disappeared. She can finally stop making faces at the mirror to see expressions and emotions anymore. As much as Penny is a pretty kid, it gets kinda sickening just looking at herself. She’s not vain.

Penny just really hated the threads.

There was a new development, the threads would move on specific areas and they either tightly wrap or loosen then decay. The first instance was with an elderly grandpa who live down the street. He was outside in his porch's rocking chair when his grey thread tightly wrapped against his heart, after a while it loosen to the ground and decayed in golden dust.

Penny didn’t understood what happened.

…

She figured it out he died when she heard that man's grandson crying and calling for help. That also meant she knew where an injury is, a single thread would wrap in a specific spot. Penny knew who would die and how just by the threads that surrounds the people.

The little girl decided to call them Strings of Life and Death, never knowing how almost accurate she was.

Penny never thought she’d be a murderer until the day she killed Gabe.

The man was simply awful, the little girl can attest to that in more than one account. The guy was abusive, he thinks Penny doesn’t know, her mother thinks she doesn’t know. But she’s seen Gabe hit Sally. Her memory was perfect, she never had once forgotten it. Though the man never once hit or punch Penny, he would grab her arm and push her to the side roughly, injuring it. Threatening to hit her lights out each time she doesn’t listen to his demands.

Penny was so sick of him.

Why is her mom putting up with that guy!?

So she did what all little kids do, blame the thing that bothers them the most. Penny blames the threads.

Those threads were the reason why her mom had to marry Gabe. Because no sane good man would want to have a kid who’s probably mentally ill, calling and seeing people as humanoid yarns, saying ‘Your such a pretty color, mister!’ like they were an object.

Stupid threads!

Stupid Smelly Gabe who reeks like molded garlic bread and last week’s sweaty laundry!

It would be better if they were both gone! Penny cried at the thought.

So one day, Penny grabs the scissors lying about at the table. The child had a rough idea what she was doing. It was an unconscious decision that she hardly knew of the consequences.

(But I hate him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hatehatehatehatehatehate -)

Approaching a drunk sleeping Smelly Gabe, and silently slid the metal blades on his awfully colored brown murky bracelet threads and-

Snip!

-his thread fell to the ground.

A single cut yarn, was all it took for everything to fall to the ground and decay the same way the old man did.

And Gabe Ugliano stopped breathing.

Still. She was still as she watched. Her eyes flashing gold eerily in the silence.

Penny was calm, placing back the scissors back on the table. Went to her room in a daze, never once looking back.

Penny stared from the window at the ambulance that charted off Gabe’s dead body to bring to the morgue.

His official reports state that he died due to alcohol poisoning. But Penny knew the truth. She killed him. (And she doesn’t regret it one bit.)

She looked back at the kitchen table, where the scissors were still there.

Then all of sudden, something hit her. Maybe it was her conscience yelling at her to doing something so immorally wrong. But, why?

Good riddance! She says.

Gabe’s death doesn’t bother her one bit.

So why does it feel like her something was crawling back at her spine?

(It’s fear of something.)

Then she look at her mother, who was talking with a paramedic, shedding tears to the man who was not worth it.

Then to her arms.

To the bright baby blue bracelet thread.

To the paramedic who had a lovely shade of leafy green thread.

Then back at the scissors.

Horror dawned on her like a cold water to the face.

How easy it was for her to end a life.

With just a single cut. They fall dead without any way of fighting back.

(She doesn’t want to kill anyone.)

(She doesn’t want to hurt.)

(Gabe was just…)

That day, Penny learned to fear the power in her hands.

The fear of holding a sharp object in her hands.

The fear of accidentally harming others.

Chapter Text

Every single being in the world posses a string of thread to them. Always wrapped around like bracelets, only moving to a specific spot when injured or someone whose life hangs on the balance of their illness. Though they no longer look like humanoid yarn creatures, they still exist. 

They have never gone away, as Penny had thought. If she stared and focused hard enough, the whole entirety of a person would be covered in those yarns again. But that required a lot of concentration that causes migraines, she doesn’t know why when she had no problem seeing them like that when she was younger.

She feels like she’s been both granted a blessing and nerfed by God.

It’s like he realized that ‘Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t give a child an ability to kill people with a scissor’s snip. But too late! So here’s a downgrade.’

Penny prefers to avoid it, and ignore its existence. It was very easy to just pretend that yarn bracelets were a fashion trend. That even though the colors sometimes clash against their clothes, just ignore it.

Threads were a constant truth in her life. The sun rise in the east. People die. The threads dictate their lives.

It was always there.

Even though she dislike the colorful strings that surround her vision, they bring a sense of comfort to her. To know that everything is fine just as is.

That’s why she may had almost had a heart attack when Grover Underwood, her new roommate did not have one.

Penny shaken his hands earlier when he introduced himself but there really was no string. She didn’t felt it. She thought it had just moved somewhere, maybe he had a deadly injury. But nothing.

It really just wasn’t there.

Then sometimes it would flicker into existence. As if it was aware that Penny couldn’t see the thread, that it was acting suspiciously, so it willed itself into existence. 

To trick her mind.

Too late, she says. She already knew it was fake.

Shame that fake thread was such a beautiful shade of forest green, with a mix of wooden brown. It was her first time seeing a thread be two-colored. And if she was seeing it right, it was even cashmere yarn.

“You’ll do great things. Achieve the goal that you’ve wanted and more.” Penny suddenly lost control of her mouth and the words spilled out, one time she had been staring at his fake string during lunch.

“What?” Grover looked at her confused, in the middle of biting his enchilada whole.

“ You’ll find him. The Lord of the Wild is not dead. ”

That’s when he choke on his food, coughing hard. 

Penny broke out of her trance and panicked when she saw her friend choking. Slapping his back out to help him spit it out.

After that day, they had a new Latin Teacher, Mr. Brunner.

Much to Penny’s horror, he didn’t had a thread either. It too would flicker into existence like an illusion, much like Grover’s. His thread was silvery grey, and it glowed brightly. As if someone put LED lights inside the bracelet, so now it glows 24/7 when it appears.

Penny couldn’t care less about his lessons, like for all her classes. She maintains a good enough C+ to B grade. School makes her fall asleep and her ADHD won’t allow her to focus. Though Brunner’s lessons were interactive enough that it was simultaneously the only lesson she bothered to care about.

The twelve year old girl was more interested in the man’s glowing thread and her friend’s.

The jet black haired girl looked at her own hands. There were no threads on her either. They don’t even flicker on and off to pretend that they exist. They just don’t.

Perhaps she should just let it go? That maybe some people just don’t have threads.

(As if.)

Penny scoffed at the thought. What a funny notion.

Penelope didn’t had threads because she wasn’t normal. After all, she could control and see how people die. Then there must be something about Grover and Brunner too.

A childish imagination asked if she thought people without threads had superpowers like those in the comics. 

But that was too… too unrealistic.

(So says the girl that just needs scissors and needles.) 

Also that would been a real lame superpower to be able to see and cause death with threads but not towards the bad guys with superpowers, if it’s only limited to non-superpowered people.

“Ms. Jackson.” Mr. Brunner’s stern voice broke her out of her thoughts. “Are you listening, Ms. Jackson?”

“H-huh?”

The old teacher sighed, rather resigned to the fact, “Ms. Jackson, how many times must I tell you to pay attention to my class? It is of great importance that you learn my lessons.”

Y’know. Penny would really like him, if he didn’t hounded her about his Latin class that was really more like a Greek Mythology elective instead. He doesn’t do this to any other student. Brunner cares enough to remind them to pay attention, but not like how he tells Penny that she needs to do more than a C or B in his class.

Annoying.

( Sometimes she wish his string was real and she could grab- )

Eerie silence haunts the room as Penelope stood over a sleeping Grover, staring at the illusion-like thread on his wrist. It was glowing, pulsating even, against the dark room as the forest green threads illuminated her face. It was calling for her in earnest.

These strings had never once glowed. Brunner’s? Sure, they glowed 24/7 when visible. But Grover’s strings were such that it made sure it blended to everyone’s else. To be the least suspicious of the two.

Now it’s glowing.

Brightly so.

Why else would these strings act this way unless it’s begging Penelope to notice them?

(It was like a moth to a flame.)

So she did what she had been wanting to do ever since Grover’s fake threads appear. Confirm if it was real. 

Penelope just couldn’t help it.

It was gnawing on her mind.

Curiosity was consuming her.

The need, want, to learn and understand those flickering threads was like a black hole.

It was just right there.

Why was she so obsessed with it, you ask? The cause for such interest was plainly simple… 

They. don’t. have. threads! 

That fact both relaxes and cause anxiety to Penny. On one hand, there won’t be a thread to accidentally cut. On the other hand… they were human beings, or the least, sentient creatures - even animals and trees have threads for goodness sake! - they should have these threads wrapped around on them.

These flickering illusions... Pretending that something was there, but there really was not.

Human nature is susceptible to curiosity. It was the most basic and simplest form of emotion. 

(Those flickering threads.)

It was if they were begging to be pluck and strung together by Penny. And one was just in her reach. 

So, so very near.

Just one pull.

So she slowly approach Grover’s sleeping body, and gently pick the string in his wrist. The girl’s sea green eyes glowed golden around her pupils as she did so.

What was she expecting? 

For it to pass through her fingers? Confirm that it was fake?

For her to be able to pick it up? What would that mean?

Penelope didn’t know what she was expecting, or what out of the two option she would have preferred.

But safe to say, her wishes - expectations, wants - had been answered. As the forest green string was lifted. 

Her lips twitch, curving into an ecstatic smile. Almost cracking as her eyes burned brightly through the pulsing string she fished out from him.

The sleeping boy groaned, twisting to face the wall. That snapped her again out of her weird trance. She quickly moved away before she realized that…

“Can I bring this?” Penny whispered quietly as she looked at the string in her hand. She didn’t want to let it go that quickly without even examining it. So without a second thought, she begun pulling and unraveling, until she ended up with a fistful of forest green threads.

So satisfied with her haul, she climbed at her bed and begun toying with it, her gaze fixed to the thread. It was real. It was tangible. It wasn’t just a hallucination.

But why does it act like it’s faking its existence?

Penelope hardened her focus on the thread, as if the very thing offended. (It some way, it felt like it did.) It glowed brightly than earlier until it engulfed her vision. And all she can see is forest green radiance.

Penny was suddenly in a fastly moving car, as a storm rages on the background. Lightning flashes one after another, the wind slamming against the car’s windshield. The one driving was her mother.

Sally Jackson was driving like a madwoman, speeding past through the country roads without any regards for speeding laws. Next to Penny in the passenger seat was… a girl who looked exactly like her.

Long black curly waves of hair that reaches her hips, bright vivid sea green eyes that looked rather dark and gloomy looking at Penny. It was her. 

“Grover,” Penny-look alike called out to her, in a weird skeptical voice. “You and my mom… know each other?”

What? Why is she being called Grover? And what about her mom?

Then without any warnings, her mouth move on her own and spoke in a voice that wasn’t her own. It was Grover’s voice, “Not exactly. I mean, we’ve never met in person. But she knew I was watching you.”

What was going on? Why is Grover’s voice coming out from her mouth? What was she even saying?

“Watching me?” The other Penny asked. She recognize this tone, it was when she was uncomfortable with the situation.

Her eyes averted away from the other Penny and accidentally look into the car’s rear view mirror. Instead of herself, she was Grover. His brown curls, brown eyes and wispy beard. Penny was currently Grover Underwood.

She wanted to looked down and checked the body she was in but she wasn’t in control. Even now, she could feel her mouth - or well, Grover’s mouth moving, speaking. Continuing the conversation with the other Penny in the car.

Only when Grover’s gaze look down at himself, lo behold, replacing her white skin was light brown and brown goat legs. That was the last straw that made Penny accept that she currently was stuck in Grover’s body and her body was right there, somehow still functioning without her.

Wait, goat legs?

Just as she thought that, her other self also freaked out on this as she exclaimed “-best friend is a goat from the waist down!”

Penny freaked out internally. She wasn’t even able to voice her panic. She hated this, why was she stuck in Grover’s body!? Did he even know? Is this karma for grabbing and playing with his life threads?

She has claustrophobia, while this isn’t technically being confined in a small space physically as the car’s interior still had a lot of space. But she was trapped. Against her will. Unable to move and escape. If her inner turmoil was connected to Grover’s body, then his heart would had been beating fast as Penny panics.

Her thoughts and anxiety was broken out with a loud roar. And then…

Then everything felt like it exploded, with a blinding flash accompanied by a large boom of lightning. Penny felt her consciousness slipping away as she felt the body’s head hit the metal roof. 

“Hachk!” Penny gasped out harshly as she can finally feel herself back into consciousness. She immediately looked down on her hands. Hands that still held onto green cluster strings. She was so thankful to see her soft slender hands instead of Grover’s long boyish calloused ones.

She looked around in fright and instead of the exploded car, was her dorm room in Yancy Academy. There was faint snoring coming from the left, and it was Grover’s sleeping figure.

Penny was back.

Back from whatever that was.

The raven haired girl sighs in relief, but cautiously looked at the threads with a healthy amount of fear. She let it go and-

fooo— whipp!!

-it acted like springs and bounced back into the owner’s wrist.

“What just happened?”

It was like a vision.

Maybe a hallucination.

Or maybe she fell asleep while staring at the green threads and since it was connected to Grover’s (very literally), her dream - nightmare, really - manifested that weird vision.

The last one was more easily acceptable conclusion, hence Penny disregarded anything that sounded crazy to her. Deciding that she was just too tired.

Like seriously, goat legs?

What an imaginative nightmare…

Chapter Text

Yancy Academy is a magnet for people without threads and teacher replacements. For as long as she had been in this school, never had this happened before. Granted it was currently only 3 people so far without threads (not including herself) because Mrs. Dodds the new pre-algebra teacher joined their ranks. She started going here ever since Winter Break ended on February to replace their old one due to a mental breakdown that led her to be confined in a psych ward. (Penny knew Ms. Davidson was going to break one day, her act was barely being held together.)

Anyways, Yancy was a magnet. First comes Penny the one without a string, then next comes Grover with the “fake but not really” string, Mr. Brunner’s LED light strings, and now someone exactly like Penny. Mrs. Dodds did not had threads. They don’t flicker into existence to pretend like the last two cases. They simply weren’t there. 

For real this time. She was not going insane.

There truly wasn’t a single thread.

Her body twitched from excitement, dread, curiosity and fear. Penny wanted to know. Wanted to see. An actual person without a thread.  (The compulsive behavior to grab the old woman’s wrist to examine-)

At that moment, a shiver ran from her spine. As her instincts screamed at her ‘No way in hell, Penelope!’ She valued her life whilst powerless against someone she could not control. So Penny retreated with her selfish obsessive wants. 

The moment Mrs.Dodds step foot in this institution without as much a hint of a string in her made Penny deemed her as a danger that she will not be trusting.

The woman hated her.

And Penelope hated her back.

The feelings of hatred between the algebra teacher and student were mutual that Penelope was 100% sure that the woman was targeting her specifically. Mrs. Dodds hated everyone, that much is true, but when it comes to Penny… it’s like everyone in her eyes were angels and Penny was the soul demon in the class.

It was why Nancy Bobofit was her favorite student, for the sole reason that Nancy hated Penny. She didn’t knew why, as far as Penny knew the only relation she had with Nancy was being in the same class as her. The raven haired girl never once been in the redhead’s radar, or even knew of any interaction that would invite such actions against her.

Unless…

‘Oh you gotta be kidding me.’ Penny sighed inside her head as she figured it out.

To describe herself, Penelope would say that she tries blending in with the background characters one would see in the show. At least she tries to be. The raven haired girl had a social circle filled with kids who she handpicked herself that fits the narrative she wanted to present for her remaining time in this school. She doesn’t particularly care about how others view her as, the only opinion she cares about was her mother’s and hers. Mostly her own. She acts for her own interests alone, or so she would say.

Truthfully, the only reason she befriended Grover was because of his odd threads. And because…

It was inconvenient.

The moment a physically disabled kid transferred into this school, was the moment every single bully in their grade decided that he was the prime target. And Grover Underwood decided to make Penelope’s life miserable by trying to attach himself to her whenever possible.

By sitting next to her.  

By always trying to strike up a conversation.

By being her roommate in the dorms.

By literally existing.

And by technical association, Penelope’s life was affected.

As shameful it is, and perhaps a bit horrible to admit but Penny would always look the other way whenever someone was bullied. As long as it didn’t bother her, it was not her problem. She preferred being the spectator rather than being the one doing the actions. She’d watch as other’s get defended by their friends, the troublemakers get caught by teachers, and watch as everything fall into place. It was a gratifying feeling. Watching everything unfolds gives her a sense of accomplishment by doing absolutely nothing. That all came crushing down when Grover entered her life and she was dragged into his problems because the kid was so adamant and probably desperate to befriend her.

Because she hated when things inconvenient her or gets in her way. Penelope will never claim to be a good person, so it wasn’t for the pure goodness of her heart why she decided to take Grover under her wing and simultaneously lose her friend group. It was because all the things happening to him was inconveniencing her life. 

Penny can’t pretend that Grover wasn’t being bullied when it was literally in front of her.

So she finally spoke out. Put a stop to it and defended the pitiful boy. And Nancy looked at Penny like she personally stab her in the back.

It was…

It was amusing.

To see that rage behind her eyes, as Nancy’s freckled face turned red from anger from Penny’s actions.

At that time she thought, “Maybe.. just maybe, just this once or few times she can forgo being the spectator and become part of the actors.” 

Well…

Long story short, she should have never left out of her comfort zone.

“I regret a lot of things.” Penny now moaned sadly, drowning in her unfortunate reality.

“W-why?” Grover asked, a bit startled at her proclamation.

“I regret befriending you.” Penny added with an uncaring tone. “Your cons outweighs your pros.”

“Wahh!?” He cried out. “Penny, that’s so cruel.”

She didn’t deigned him a response and flipped her textbook, her eyes scanning the pages absentmindedly as the words burned through in her mind. It takes a while, her dyslexia makes it harder to commit it to memory as words dance, float and jump around one another. 

“Well, I’m still grateful that you became my friend.”  

Penny pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing in confusion on why that was Grover’s ending statement. Instead of  questioning that, her thoughts strayed to the reason why she even said it out loud in the first place.

“Don’t you think there’s something wrong with Nancy?” Penny rhetorically asked. Then paused, “No, don’t answer that. There is something wrong with her.”

She titled her head until it faced the ceiling. Scrunching down her brows whilst she closed her eyes.

“More accurately, Mrs. Dodds is oddly against me isn’t she? It’s like my own existence is a sin to her. I haven’t done anything to her have I?”

“No, you didn’t.” Grover said.

“Psh.” Penny frowned. “I don’t need you to tell me that, I’d remember if I did. I have an eidetic memory. Mrs. Dodds is just a wicked monster under that hag-like human skin.” 

Unexpectedly, or perhaps not, Grover agreed with her last sentence. “You’re absolutely correct.”

She just gave her an arched eyebrow and continued to memorizing the textbook.

It was May. 

The whole class was going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for their field trip lead by Mr. Brunner and chaperoned by Mrs. Dodds.

Penny was quite intrigued by the idea of a field trip. To her, field trips means that something will go wrong. She had been expelled a couple of times from schools due to it. It was quite a hassle to always transfer schools every year because of it, but it always amuses her.

Maybe because it was part of her fascination of seeing expressions when she was a child. But it brings her some sort of euphoria to see others people facial features contorts to something other than neutrals and smiles. Replaced with disgust, fear, horror and anger. When at 4th Grade, she ‘accidentally’ pressed the wrong lever in the Marine World shark pool and the class took an impromptu swimming lesson with the sharks. The looks on their faces brought unfathomable joy to the 9 year old girl at that time who just two years ago, couldn’t see faces.

Pretty sure the teachers and staff there saw a child with a manic exhilarated expression, as everyone in her class panicked while being rescued and she was probably labeled as a sociopath. Not that Penelope would fault them. She agreed, in some form does lack empathy and guilt. She learned that a long time ago when she killed Gabe.

Perhaps it was also because she found something that justified the usage of this power when she was 10 years old. Some random man suddenly charged ahead like a crazy person in the mall with a knife at hand and stabbed someone in front of the whole building to see. While the others screamed in panic and fear from the craze murderer, Penny had tilted her head and understood something. Maybe it’s because of his expression, the hysterical smile, vengeance filled eyes, and the dull yet powerful pulse of his thread resonated with Penelope. Despite having never met him, nor actually talked to murderer she understood why he did it. Because he hated the man he killed. Because he looked rather satisfied and so fulfilled. That man threw the knife away like trash and allowed him to be caught by the police with no fight, all because he just had one goal. He never meant to hurt anyone other than man he killed.

And Penelope understood. Because she was in his shoes before.

She still feared her power. But no longer to that extent. Penny believed that it was just shock from doing it the first time. It was stupid to be afraid of sharp objects for all her life when scissors and knives are abundant in any place.

Maybe.

She doesn’t know.

But she doesn’t fear sharp things near threads anymore as much as anymore. After she realized that people can’t cut their own.

“Penny! Penny!” Grover shook her back to reality. “We’re here already, what were you thinking so hard?”

“I just remembered how relatable the murderer I saw when I was younger. How it helped me understand some things better.” Penny says with an innocent expression and calm smile on her face, as she place a palm in her cheek with a joyful tone. 

Grover could only give a pained smile at her. Far used to her little quirks, as disturbing most of them had been.

“Anyway, we’re here already so please stop the morbid recollections that you’re having.” Grover pointed outside of the bus windows to the Museum Building.

.
.
.

Penelope had stepped into the Museum thinking what could possibly go wrong this time, will or will it not expel her or maybe create something traumatic.

Chapter Text

Penelope’s currently bored out of her mind.

See here’s the thing, Penny got bored rather quickly. 

It was a problem that she long forgone trying to solve.

Nothing she does to can ever appease her boredom. Perhaps it was due to her own inherent laziness to not get into action, opting to watch the world run its course instead. She tried some few hobbies, mostly outdoor activities at the behest of her mother but she slowly lost interest over it after a few weeks or so. Then she just gave up doing more. Honestly, the only thing that ever gives her satisfaction was watching people’s lives but movies didn’t give her the same cathartic satisfaction.

All the kids were going around the Museum, with worksheet to write down all the random facts from the museum placards that were both hurtful to the eyes and boring. This was so mundane and tedious. Where was the fun? This wasn’t fun at all! 

Did Penny cursed herself? Was this going to be just a normal field trip around the museum? Surely not right?

“Grover.”

“Grover.”

“Grover.”

“P- pl- please - st- stop shaa-king me!” Grove whispered yelled as he begged for release.

“I’m so bored, Grover.” Penny disregarded his wishes and continued on with shaking him by the shoulders.

“H-h how is a- shuut iiin li-ke you-yu so stroonh- Woah!” 

Penny let him go and he stumbled backwards, but she caught him just in time.

“Thank-“

“Bullying people isn’t really fun, huh.” The sea green eyed girl titled her head towards the direction of the redheaded kleptomaniac. Then towards Grover again, “Oh, by the way… what’s with your hair? Is sandwich pieces fashionable now?”

She didn’t notice it before, but that was definitely ketchup, peanut butter and bread stuck in his curly head. Then again, perfect memory doesn’t mean seeing everything clearly. She was distracted and wasn’t looking at Grover so Penny missed out on what happened to him.

“Nancy was throwing wads of her lunch at me during the whole bus ride.” 

Penny’s instinct was to check her own hair. Only to find it as spotless as she remembered it was. It calmed her down as she gently combed her hand through.

“She also aimed it at you. I stopped it. With my head.” He pointed to his hair. “You’re my best friend, Penny, so I’ll tell you this. You’re kinda… terrifying sometimes and I fear for Nancy’s life if she targets your hair.”

It may sound weird for him to worry for his own bully from getting hurt but he’s not wrong to come up with that conclusion. The topic of her hair was an important one. She cared for it every day, and disliked anyone who would ruin it. Penny was quick to anger, she just doesn’t show it. Grover was perhaps the only one who knew how explosive her anger was, despite the fact that she never shown it. It’s like he always knows what Penny’s feeling at any given moment.

Also Penelope doesn’t need to be violent to harm someone. But she can and will resort to violence if anything, she was a temperamental person that her mother says came from her father.

And she has a lot of reasons to mess with Nancy.

“Anyways, Penny please… please don’t make any trouble for tod-“ Grover suddenly froze still. He flinched as he avoided Penny’s eyes.

Penny was currently staring at him with rather dead vacant eyes. Contemplating something.

Grover always stop still whenever she so much express the barest minimum of annoyance or anger. Treating her like a ticking time bomb that will go off in seconds. Penny dislike the way he walks on eggshells but the mere fact that a simple look or gesture can make him stop, is one thing that pleases her. That’s one of the things that made him tolerable though.

“Hmm…” Penny hums. “Since your such a good friend… I’ll listen to you, just for today.”

“Huh? Really?” Doe-like brown eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, you want me to cause trouble? Just say so. I’ll gladly do so willingly.”

“No! No! Please! Stay still just for one day! I beg of you!”

No promises though. She thought in her head.

Mr. Brunner gathered them around a rather gruesome painting of a man in robes with his jaw unhinged open while he holds a headless baby with both of his hands. Crazed look in his eyes, yet with no remorse for the deed he has done. Penny winced at the sight, now forever burned in her memory.

She knew what exactly this painting was portraying but she never once saw any images of the cannibalism of the story. Sally knew that Penny will remember everything, and refused to allow her daughter to see awful images of gore that unfortunately is part of the Greek Mythos. Though this story was one of the few things she *chose* to remember due to sheer stupidity, amusement and weirded out she felt when she heard that story.

“Does anyone know what this painting represents?” Mr. Brunner asked the class.

No one really answered his question, in fact, all of them were acting similarly to Penny right now. Looking away from it as best as they could. Honestly, she wants her 1 minute when she didn’t knew this existed back.

When no answered him for a while, the man then zeroed in one his favorite target. 

“Ms. Jackson, what do you think this is?”

“A cannibal.” She deadpanned.

“Specifically I mean.”

“Kronos being an idiot ‘cause he thought he could magically fix his inevitable fate by eating his children.” 

“But why did he did that?” Mr. Brunner pressed more.

Penny just stared at him, looking as if he were slow or just stupid. She quite literally just said the answer. He thought he could avoid fate. She didn’t do anything else than stare blankly. Pretending to be clueless kid like everyone else who didn’t read the carving’s small placard in the side. Mr. Brunner waited for a few seconds before he coughed lightly and then pretended he just didn’t asked a question.

“This carving shows Kronos devouring his children, due to his paranoia and fear towards a prophecy from his own father detailing that he will be overthrown just like how he overthrew Ouranos.” Then began he’s spiel about Kronos downfall that signals the beginning of the Age of Gods.

Penny thinks that Mr.Brunner is an utter fool. His class may catch her attention, it was because in her eye’s it was an easy class to get a good grade in. She mentioned this before but Latin Class was really less about learning Latin and more of a “Greek Mythology” elective that was mandatory. He still thought Latin, he acted like it was an optional requirement that he’s forced to do though. That’s what made this class easier. Memorizing a bunch of textbooks was easier than dissecting and learning another language even though Penny thinks that she wouldn’t have minded if it was truly a Latin class instead.

“-happy note. It’s lunch time children.” Judging by the faces of said children, it did not end in a happy note.

“Mrs. Dodds would you kindly please lead the children back outside?”

Something in the old hag’s features twitch with some sort of familiarity. 

The students begun walking away with the hag impatiently ushered them to step out faster. Penny just sighed. 

“Ms. Jackson.” She was stopped by Brunner calling her out.

“Yes?” She tried not to let her annoyance leak out.

Penny met his eyes. His eyes that were a warm chocolate brown that seemed to hold wisdom unattainable to mortal man. Who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations. It felt like an ancient person was standing before her, as the threads in the man’s arm flicker just so silently unaware.

“Ms. Jackson. You can do better than this.” Came a disappointment sigh from the teacher.

“I believe I don’t know what you mean.” Penny responded in a questioning manner.

“You know very well what I mean. Your exam scores always being near perfect are a testament to that. You always turn your assignments and projects on time, your quizzes have good scores as well. So I know you can do better than a C+. Just doing good in exams and written works is not enough, you have to actively participate in this class.” The unsaid ‘this class specifically’ was unsaid but was very loud.

Penny didn’t respond.

“You’re just not putting in any effort or apply yourself at all. You’re a smart child, Miss Penelope. It’s just you’re not choosing to do anything about it. You’re going to throw away your future like this if you keep it up.” The man tried to sympathetically tell her this. “You’re still young and kids your age must think that school’s boring and all that, but you have potential.”

Penny didn’t respond because she knew it was true. She just didn’t care at all that much. Honestly, in her opinion this was enough effort. She’s even making the conscious decision to seriously take the exams and schoolwork and not just wing it.

“Is that all?” Penny asked, already tired of this conversation.

“I noticed you zoned out during my impromptu lesson. I gave a short activity to the class that they must submit before we go back to Yancy. Why does learning about Kronos and the god’s history important to real life?”

“You must learn the answer to my question. This is about real life and how your studies can be applied to it. What you learn from me is vitally important, and I expect you to treat is as such. I cannot allow you to continue how you’ve always been. That will not be enough. I will only expect the best from you, Penelope Jackson.”

The girl in question only clenched her fists tightly. Not once ever meeting the middle aged teacher’s eyes for her own was transfixed to the glowing silvery grey lights that are slowly wrapping around his whole body. It felt like his own threads turned against him. Wanting to swallow him whole in creeping irritation. Writhing and slithering upwards ever so slowly, tightly wrapping against his own will. 

Of course, there was no physical or verbal confirmation that whatever the threads were doing affected Brunner. At best, this movement just reminded her of how the threads would look like before they subdued. But Penelope likes to imagine that they are moving by her will to shut him up. Allow her to live in that delusion just for a moment.

She didn’t voice any of this out loud of course, so she just gave a gentle smile that never quite reach her eyes and says: Yes, Mr. Brunner.

“Whatever.” That was what came out of her mouth instead of staying in her mind.

Penny didn’t offer any apologies, it wouldn’t have been sincere anyways. Merely hallow words. She simply walked away.

The class was gathered around the front steps of the museum, where they could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Or if you were Nancy.. immediately going away from the pack and begun attempting to pickpocket some random lady.

There was an huge storm brewing overhead but most ignored it. The weather had been pretty bad since last Christmas. There had been massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. It was nothing new for the citizens, today was relatively a calm day so the school allowed the field trip to happen. But ever so once in a while, the atmosphere of the storm will crept up to Penny’s spine and make her fell goosebumps all over.

As if this was something worse beyond a storm.

Grover was already there by the fountain waiting for her. Away from the other students, specifically the redhead menace that defiled his curly hair.

“Did you get detention?” He asked.

“You know Brunner never gives me detention.” No matter how much she probably annoyed him. Penny thinks that’s a fair exchange.

“He’s annoying, don’t you think? It’s Latin class but it’s Greek Mythology, where’s the logic behind that? He’s so peculiar about it too… the way he comes to me to make sure I have it drilled in my head. I have an eidetic memory, I’ll remember.”

“You don’t rememberer when you don’t actually listen to it.” Grover pointed out.

“Shush. Let me wallow in my misery.”

He did. For a while the two of them said nothing, opting to eat their respective lunches instead. Until the brunet destroy said silence by asking for the apple in her lunch. She refused and in all her pettiness, bit the apple.

Penny was mid bite of her apple when she got hit in the head with something sticky. In her shock, she dropped the apple in her hand as the chunky paste and bread met her face with a wet slap, then falling off into her lap.

“Oops!” Came Nancy’s grating voice. “I thought that was the trash can but trash belongs with trash so that’s fitting.”

Penny didn’t react, rather she was stupefied on what just happened. Staring at the half-eaten peanut butter and ketchup sandwich on her lap that was currently dirtying her school uniform and herself. Raising her hand on her face, she slowly wipe a bit of the spread off her. Her eyes transfixed on her fingers that has now been smeared.

Never had Penelope whipped her head so fast in anger. Her eyes flared and Nancy’s visage was erased from her mind and replaced with red orange yarn in the shape of her. The human shaped yarn took a step back in a form of alarm when Penelope stood up. The disgusting sandwich dropped to the ground with a plopping sound. 

The air stilled, the atmosphere turned colder by the second and the sky begun to prepare for a storm.

“———-“ The human yarn tried to speak but no words came out its mouth. More accurately, it was Penelope who didn’t register its words. To her, the person in front wasn’t human anymore, it was just yarn that gained sentience. And yarn that go against its weaver, straying away from her loom needed to be cut.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Penny didn’t carry sharp objects. At best, all she had was two bobby pins that stuck her left bangs to her head to avoid it covering her eyes and her nails.

Ah right her nails. They are pretty sharp, aren’t they? The red orange yarn was quite thin. Even if they don’t break… it will probably make the flesh that house it bleed. So in blind rage, Penny grabbed Nancy’s left wrist and specifically where the area that the original threads were, and dug her sharp nails into it hard.

There was a cry of pain. There was a shout.

Penelope couldn’t hear them. They were all bunch of static noise in the air. 

The humanoid thread begun wiggling and fraying, struggling to remove itself from her grip. The weaver stared at the disobeying stray thread in the area where Nancy’s eyes are meant to be. Staring at it with her cold, sea-green eyes that had turned dark and almost grey to reflect the darkening cloud above. Her lips contorted to a serene bright smile that never quite reach her eyes yet laid out it’s owners feeling for all to see.

Penelope was being entertained right now.

She could feel a string snap. 

A gasp of pain.

The threads were bending to her will. Squirming in a fraying panic. Jolting by the second like those cartoon frames when the characters get shock. The Weaver wanted her gone from her loom.

And then-

“Ms. Jackson!! That is enough!” Mr. Brunner yelled in admonishment, he looked appalled mixed with disappointment.

“Enough what?” Still in a daze Penelope huffs in indignation. “It deserve whatever was coming.”

“Penelope, Ms. Bobofit should not have thrown her sandwich at your head but it is not right for you to break her arm in retaliation.” 

Brunner expected her usually calm and rational student to snapped out of it, and assess the reality of her actions. Rather, in a low murmured voice that no one should have heard unless it was whispered to him directly, he heard his student’s voice filled with dissatisfaction asked herself, “Just her arm?”, while looking at her fingertips that was tainted with blood.

“Ugh. I got its filthy blood all over my hand, disgusting.” 

If Brunner noticed that Penelope was no longer referring to Nancy as a human being, he didn’t show.

“Ms. Jackson. Do you even know what this means for you?” 

“I’m getting expelled, I know.” Penny just shrugs as she walks away.

Not before being stopped by Mrs. Dodds, the chaperone who sieve the chance to move away from the crying and bleeding Nancy. “Penelope Jackson, where do you think you are going? We are not done here yet.”

“The washroom.” Penny touched her hair. “I have to remove this filth off of me.”

“I’ll accompany you.” Mrs. Dodds said. “To make sure you don’t run away.”

That sounded like a terribly ominous idea. 

For the both of them.

Chapter Text

The silence was daunting and loud. A pin could drop and everyone here would hear it. Each footstep against the vinyl floors echoed throughout the hall like a haunting clock’s hand waiting for something. The people in the museum was eerily quiet, despite their mouths moving indicating speech no sound came out. Each step the people slowly disappear from view, as if they were never even truly there. They move stiffly and lacked any semblance of life.

They were lifeless. Illusory. 

They weren’t real.

Because they didn’t have threads connecting to them. It was too suspicious for this place to be filled with threadless people. Penny wasn’t that clueless to fall for it.

These people weren’t real. The only one inside the museum right now is Penny and Mrs. Dodds, who was walking just behind her patiently.

A chill crawl up her through her spine. She held back from flinching or indicate any form of discomfort.

It was rare for Penny to feel fear. She learned it long ago that her way of thinking and behavior was fundamentally different from a normal child. Amusement, anger and boredom was the only thing she ever express openly, because it was the only emotion she fully understood. It takes her a while to register sadness, not until tears were already flowing from her eyes and even then it confuses her as to why she does. Fear on the other… was a whole other subject. What was even fear? Penny was so desensitized to anything that it just fails to register in her brain that she should be afraid. She definitely wasn’t a good horror movie watcher because disgust was the only thing she’ll ever get.

Back to what she was saying before she got side tracked… Fear is a foreign concept to her. It takes a while to register just like anything else when it came to emotion, but fear was weird. It just doesn’t sink in until it was quite literally in front of her face about to attack her or when it already happened and Penelope is just staring at a distance with goosebumps all over. (Key example: when she stared at Grover’s threads)

This was one of the rare occasions that the hostility was so apparent and strong that Mrs. Dodds was giving her a sense of dread. Penny knew when she was in danger. She always viewed the old hag as dangerous, not just because of her inability to control the woman because she didn’t have strings. Rather something just doesn’t sit right with her.

But…

One wrong move, one wrong word. 

This carefully crafted peace will break.

Penny has no choice but to let this woman follow her until she finds a way to lose Mrs. Dodds.

The bathroom was empty and despite all the lights being lit up, the place was oddly dim. It was gloomy. It looked like the place where characters go die in a horror movie. Mrs. Dodds was standing in front of the door guarding it like a gargoyle, standing like a statue. With her lanky and bony figure merging with the colors of the grey wall. But rather than warding off evil, she herself was the evil spirit. 

Currently the situation was normal, calm even. It was a quiet, patient dread. Everything in this room felt like it was covered by some mist remaining in an undisturbed hush, holding its breath. 

Penny had tied her hair up, albeit messily, to avoid it going everywhere. Her head was lowered onto the one of the sinks while she combed through her hair. Grimacing in a slight disgust each time she felt the crumbs that stuck to her curly hair. 

Mrs. Dodds broke the silence first, “You have been giving as problems, honey.”

“I believe I don’t know what you mean.” Penny replied.

“Do not play stupid, child. You know very well what you’ve done.”

“If you’re speaking about Nancy’s arm. I broke it.” She didn’t argue that. She broke its arm for all her classmate and passerby’s to see. “But you mentioned problems..” The raven haired girl hummed the ‘problems’ whimsically as she closed the faucet, “I believe this is my only offense.”

While Penny did get detention often before, it was always just because of ‘disturbance’ of the peace or ‘disobedience’ from authorities. The teachers disliked how Penelope looks at them. This truly was her only real offense.

Penny didn’t turned around, but rather kept looking at the mirror as she dried her hair with a towel they got from the one of the staff before they everything change to the creepy scenarios. Though her eyes were slightly side eyeing to the right side where the old hag was standing.

The old hag simply tugged the cuffs of her leather dress suit. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

With that, Penny snorted. “As if. Even if that thing deserves what happened to it, the school is not going to let me go scotch free. Its parents are one of the donators there.”

That seems to be the wrong answer, and Penny figured it wasn’t exactly what the woman was talking about. Rather it was something entirely unrelated to what just happened.

Her guess would be correct because Mrs. Dodds became mad, and her face turned pale-ish grey blue in anger. 

The overhead lightning was seen through the window above and the light sharply through. Lighting the old hag’s visage. Showing obvious signs that her skin was getting prickly, with sharp dark brown feathers that look both black and red in the dim lighting.

“We are not fools Penelope Jackson. It’s only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess and you will suffer less than planned.”

Penny never once turned around. Nor did she confess to something she doesn’t even know. Never for the one to admit that she was wrong, she’s aware of her wrong doing but will never voice it out. She was also never the one for apologies, at least sincere ones. Especially confessing to a crime that seems to have just suddenly existed today.

“Oh?” Penelope narrowed her eyes hard to the woman’s wrist. Trying very hard to find a single string in her hands. Glaring at it.

That was the wrong course of actions because Mrs. Dodds took it the wrong way. “Wrong answer!”

Penelope froze as she witnessed her pre-algebra teacher turn into a hideous monster. The old hag’s black eyes began to glow red like barbecue coals. Her boney fingers stretched long and sharp, turning into talons. Her leather dress suit melted onto her body, covering her entire neck to toe with dark brown sharp metallic feathers. Her spine crackled as a new pair of appendages sprout out from her back to form black leathery bat-like wings with red undertones. 

Mrs. Dodds was a hideous shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of sharp yellow-ish white fangs.

Penelope’s whole body begun to shake as her heart followed a frantic rhythm that drummed loudly in her chest. Each heartbeat felt like a warning siren as blood rushed through her ears hotly as she processed the scene before her. Her breath hitched as Penelope’s fingers twitch. Her eyes going wide, moving in a frantic, panicked manner, scanning the woman’s hands for any chance of a string. 

The foreign emotion that was fear took over her.

This was real.

This wasn’t a horror movie that she could simply turn off from the TV.

There were no threads to fall back on.

Penelope froze in the spot as she felt helpless. Penelope wanted to run. But her body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t cooperate. 

Out of her control.

Oh god, how she hated it.

Her mind was torn to being angry at the current situation and fearing for her life.

She’s too young to die here!

In fact she doesn’t wanna die at all!

Mrs. Dodds lunge towards her shrieking and without any warnings. Penny ducked down in time and covered herself, but not fast enough. Her sleeves gave a satisfying ripping sound. Feeling a sharp and throbbing sting in her arms.

Penny couldn’t see her face right now, but she knows it would be a dumbfounded expression of disbelief. 

Because did that actually happen?

Is this actually reality?

“Hah.”

“Ha… ha..” 

“Ahahaha!” Penelope burst out laughing maniacally.

Penelope knew she was a mess right now. Sat sideways on the ground as her hands covered her face, still laughing like a lunatic. Her head turned to the direction Mrs. Dodds landed. She could see the monster’s face contort oddly. As if reassessing the situation with a weird mix of quizzically concern and frustration of the absurdity that is the current situation. Penelope would agreed if she could just stop laughing. 

“Ahaha… ahahaha!” 

“This…” Penelope snorted as she could feel tears forming in her eye from laughter. “This is too amusing..!”

Was it really?

It didn’t seem so. Her life was in danger. She’s defenseless and has absolutely no clue how to get out of it.

It just was. The sea green eyed girl was laughing at her inane situation.

“So stupid. Ahahaha… cough.. ahaha.” 

Mrs. Dodds whose patient run thin, decided that this was a mockery of her. Which wasn’t entirely false. But before anyone could do anything, a loud crash interrupted the monster’s movement and Penelope’s laughter.

A rock was thrown at the restroom window and hit Mrs. Dodds feathery-red head. 

Penelope stared.

“Pffft…”  

“Aghhh!” Mrs. Dodds roared at the insolence. “How dare-“

A thin and small object once again hit her. A pen without its cap. As well as a small black object, that could be the cap of said pen.

“Aha-“

It both thudded onto the floor’s tile coincidentally next to Penelope. It then elongated, turning into a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. 

“Oh my fucking god. What insanity is this?” The 12 year old who normally doesn’t swore bit out.

It’s too much.

Really too much.

Was she in some sort of soap opera? A fantasy show? A novel?? Some badly written fanfic with an author who can’t write fight scenes so they’re trying to stall for time while laughing unhinged?

No wait- snap back to reality, Penny!

A sword is laying right in front of you, go grab it!

“It seems that the world is in my favor, hm~?” Cracking a large bright grin as her hand move to the blade.

“Curse that infernal centaur and satyr!” Mrs. Dodds roared in anger, both of her hands arched up in the air with her talons extending a bit more longer. Charging forwards with the aim to kill Penny, giving her no time to even stand up.

In an amazing self-surprise of reflexes and reaction time, Penny held up the sword with both hands - her right at the grip and her left at the near end of the blade itself, using it to shield itself while simultaneously pushing away the sharp claws aiming to tear her apart.

“Stupidly strong for someone so fragile!” The monster grunted heavily as she kept pushing forwards.

“Ugh…” Her hand was bleeding. She could feel the warm rush of blood flowing off her left hand, and the smell of blood permeated through the air. She can’t keep this up forever. The monster was stronger than her, that’s just an indisputable fact. Penny was not the slightest bit athletic, she was scrawny and thin. Not a single muscle on her body. The only thing going for her was that she’s freakishly strong despite all that. They can’t keep this up forever, Penny was getting tired by the second this goes on. And Dodds was pushing harder.

One way or another, one of them is going to die and it won’t be Penelope.

Penelope refused.

Absolutely refuses to go out like this!

In a burst of anger, vexation and strength, Penny yelled loudly and pushed back against the talons harder. Her legs quivering as she tries to stand up.

Crash!!!

The bat-like monster stumbled back hard and crashed onto the wall.

“Agh! Hah…!” Penny cried out in exhaustion.

That was but a momentary relief, as the monster immediately got back up again and began attacking her.

“Woah!” Clang! Penny awkwardly blocked a talon coming her way at her left. 

Clang!

Clang!

They twirled around once in the same spot making her reface the mirror.

“Just give up already, honey!” Mrs. Dodds snarled. “Don’t make this harder than this already is for you!”

“How about…-“ Penny put her leg up and kicked the monster hard “-no!”

It crashed onto the sinks, Penny didn’t have it time to get up. She won’t make that mistake twice! She immediately lunge at it again, but due to her inability and inexperience to handle a sword, Mrs. Dodds still had the time to grabbed the sword again with both of her hands to prevent it from cutting her neck.

“Just die already, won’t you!?” Penny snarled at it.

“Kagh! This is futile. You have no idea how-“

“Shut up!” Penny let out a frustrated shout as her head turned up and immediately shove the sword harder down its throat. During the movement of her head, she caught something to her attention. A quick thin ghostly trace of light with a hint of a golden hue was slowly wrapping around her feathery metallic wrists was reflected in the mirror and it disappeared just as fast.

“Hah.” Penelope’s lips contorted to a sinister and sardonic smile. Her eyes gleaming to a bright toxic green like poisonous sea. Flecks of gold rimmed around her pupils as she felt rather victorious.

“I’ll be kind.” Penelope’s voice went low, becoming cold and chilling to hear. With a light mocking tone of fake pretense of benevolence. “I’ll allow you to say your last words.”

“You insolent child!” Mrs. Dodds pushed her away in rage.

“Ah.” Penelope let go of her hold, and concentrated on the last remaining traces of the ghost-like thin thread. 

Mrs. Dodds swooped at her. Just in time.

There!

Penelope ducked and grab hold of almost invisible string on the monster’s wrist with her bloodied hand. It was flimsy and fragile, barely passable to even be use to anything. The fact that it was almost invisible was a defense mechanism built against people who can control threads.

It was a stupid move, to anyone who can’t see what she can see. It look like Penelope willingly gave herself up.

Disregarding everything, even the hand that was about to get her, she tugged as hard as she could and immediately let go from the monster. She ducked and rolled to safety - as much safety as a half a foot away is.

Without saying anything else, her eyes glowed golden for a bright moment as the ghost thread manifested into reality. Making it feel like an actual thread instead of what was going on in the beginning.

Finally, she raised the sword. It echoed throughout the empty room. The blade meets the whispery string with perfect precision. It didn’t put up a fight. In fact, it bended to her will. 

Shiiing!

Snap

It echoed but it was not loud. It was akin to a sharp whisper. It almost sounded like finality. Almost. The thread was too bendable. It broke off clean but it felt like a hallow victory. It was wrong. (Wrong.Wrong.Wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrong-). Penelope didn’t know what was wrong, it just was!

“What!” 

Ah.

Right.

Mrs. Dodds was still here.

Penelope turned around to see the old hag frozen in place, watching her crumbling right hand.

“What have you done!?” 

“What did you do to me!?”

Slowly, and piece by piece. Like a plague spreading across her whole body. Cracks of golden line arched throughout and she exploded to golden powder.

“PENELOPE JACKSON!?!?” Came the desperate and agonized wrath filled screeched as the monster disappeared from existence.

It left nothing but the smell of sulfur and an evil chill in the air that now sounded like fear. Like a symphony of melodies composed of all the dread, agony, and despair of this world. 

…

…

Penny was left alone.

With a sword in hand. A bleeding hand and the restroom, completely thrashed.

…

…

There was a hum of acknowledgment in the silence that follows. A faint vibration. An echo. It flowed outwards like the ripples in the previously still waters.

The inevitability of the echoing birth that is the Weaver.