Chapter Text
The first letter addressed to Wednesday Friday Addams arrived on a cool autumn morning. The first person to take possession of the piece of paper was Morticia Addams, for safekeeping. After all, a letter addressed to a 9-year-old girl would be highly suspicious.
As soon as she touched the letter, the matriarch felt a pleasant sensation, something similar to when her husband touched her hand with kisses. The dove closed her eyes and concentrated a little more, letting her power manifest. As soon as the vision took hold, she was transported into a forest, under a harsh winter sky, snow covering the entire landscape. Soon, the figure of a wolf appeared; Morticia was startled by its immense size. The creature paced back and forth through the snow, its snout buried in the snow, sniffing as if searching for something.
As soon as she found some berries that hadn't been killed by the weather, she howled in the middle of the night and thumped her tail on the ground, kicking up the snow, as if the blizzard were returning with force.
The vision ended with the wolf staring at her, harmless and with slightly perked ears, perhaps confused and excited at the same time, just like a dog. The vision ended, and Morticia opened her eyes, returning to her living room.
Addams remained thoughtful and continued to curiously gaze at the colorful letter with its scribbled handwriting, but soon a small figure, a black blur, appeared in the room. Her daughter wasn't loving, but very observant. She noticed her mother's indecision as she held the paper in her hand.
"What is this, Mother?" the always formal daughter looked up, curious, almost as if she knew the letter was for her.
"They sent a letter for you. The handwriting isn't your Uncle Fester's, so I don't know who it's from." She commented, noticing the girl raising her hand in a silent plea for her to hand it over.
“Pugsley sent me a prank letter for the first time when he was 3, but I think I would have exploded if it were him. It seems he hasn't honed his skills over time.” The girl finally took the letter, knowing that her mother, even though protective, wouldn't open mail addressed to her.
After all, it had her name. Hers only.
She examined the crooked and scratched handwriting, wondering who, with such carelessness, thought they had the right to address her. She also noticed the colors on the border, forming bright hearts and stars. She felt nauseous just looking at them, but smiled slightly, thinking that Pugsley had finally found a way to kill her. A very torturous one, it must be said.
“As soon as you read it, can you tell me what's inside? I'm still suspicious about the letter's intentions.” Morticia touched her cheek and squeezed, causing little Addams to grimace in disgust. Over time, it no longer hurt that her little girl wasn't loving. She was proud of her for being the way she was, a little viper. “I'm going to the garden, mi reina. Tell me about it later.”
As soon as her mother left, Wednesday mustered the courage to open the letter with a small knife she kept at her waist. She never missed an opportunity to use it. Cutting with the precision of a Swiss watch, Wednesday snorted when she realized it wasn't an attempt on her 6-year-old brother's life; she knew he wasn't good enough for that.
Even disappointed, she still felt she could die poisoned by chemicals in the worst way when she saw the inside was even more colorful than the outside. The crayons were almost dusty again from being used so much on the paper. Furthermore, colored pens and ink were visible everywhere. Little Addams was curious about the contents, so she made an even greater effort to continue reading. After all, it was still a letter, and Wednesday loved to read.
“Dear Wednesday,
It’s Enid from LA.
LA stands for Los Angeles, in case you were wondering. LA is the abbreviation, you know? You can make abbreviations out of almost anything, my teacher said. Like WYD, I use that a lot with my friend. Oh, sorry, I’m getting distracted. So, you must be wondering how someone from the other side of the country found you.
SEEEEEE, my family is an outcast, but I’m adopted. Adopted in the sense that my pack adopted me when I was a baby, I don’t know where I came from, so legally I’m a Sinclair, but… That’s beside the point now!!! Anyway, my school asked me to do some research. Even though I’m a normie, living in this world still confuses me. I’m in a world that isn’t mine, you know? If they hadn’t been so generous to me, I don’t think I’d even have a place to live… Anyway!!
I accessed the outcast database with my teacher’s help. We've made a selection, and your name came up randomly. Did you know that outcasts are regulated by the government? I would be scared if I were one of you; it's dangerous to be held hostage by policies that can be oppressive... Anyway, I shouldn't worry. I hope my letter reached the right destination; I need your help.
If you can answer these questions:
- How did you feel when you first realized you were an outcast?
- What are your abilities?
- Does your family accept you even if they aren’t like you?
- What do you think the future of outcasts will be like?
I hope you can help me with my homework; I'd like to understand more about my family.
Sincerely, E.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes as she finished the letter. It was misspelled, she was constantly rambling, and she used slang. It definitely wasn't worth her time to reply.
However, as she was folding it, never to see Enid Sinclair's name again, she was seized by her first vision. It was the first time she knew she would be a raven. Her vision was of a werewolf with gray fur, a sweet look, and a wagging tail, in the middle of the snow. But as soon as the wolf looked at her, its eyes turned yellow, and its large canines began to appear; the vision also showed blood on its fangs and bloody paws.
What the vision had shown Wednesday was an uncontrollable beast, and this somehow fascinated her; she was enchanted by the creature she had only seen in the pages of books. But unlike in the book, the beast was bigger.
She soon realized that the vision had been triggered by the letter. She looked at it carefully, running her fingers over the crayon, even knowing... that she would have to take an antihistamine afterward. She had already made up her mind; the crayon girl wasn't a normie, for some reason that was hidden from her.
Contrary to what she had predicted, Wednesday found herself opening the letter once more and, taking a piece of paper and a pen, wrote a perfect, cursive reply.
“Dear Enid,
My name is Wednesday Addams, and I come from a long line of outcasts. I have grandparents and great-grandparents, uncles and aunts who are every kind of monster imaginable. I am proud of my bloodline. That's why the answer to your first question seems so vague to me, because I never realized I was one, since being an outcast is the only thing I've known since birth. There's no such thing as realizing; if I weren't, I wouldn't exist. My abilities were inherited from my mother, it seems, but unlike her, I am consumed by the pessimism and loneliness of a raven. Can you imagine yourself like that? Lost and alone in the world. I have visions, whether they are of the future or premonitions.
For me, outcasts are the future, but we need to live on the fringes so that normal people feel important in their insignificance. I disagree that we should let them have so much power, but the shadows are safer for an outcast; darkness will always be the place we can return to. People are afraid of the supernatural, and that's for the best.
Now, I have a question for you, Enid: why did your parents lie about you being adopted?
Worst, W.”