Welcome, fine readers, to my own little interpretation of the first Klaus Hypnosis in TMM. Since I noticed that there were absolutely NO TMM stories on this site, I decided to make one. That, and I was unbelievably bored. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, because it was truely a labor of love.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lemony Snicket, ASOUE, TMM, Klaus, Dr. Orwell, the foreman, Violet, Sunny, Charles, or Olaf. I don't own Georgia Byng, either, and I certainly don't own Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism, although it is a very good book and I definately recommend it.
I felt the impact more than I saw it.
Well, sure, I saw the first half of the fall, but then my glasses slipped off and the rest was nothing. I felt myself fall onto them and heard them crunch sickeningly. I heard Violet proclaim that they were ruined. You don't have to tell ME twice, I thought, picking up the wreckage. Although my eyes saw only a meaningless black blob, my hands could feel that they were ruined beyond repair.
I heard Charles, Violet, and the foreman bickering about the eye-shaped building my sisters and I had encountered earlier that day. We had all agreed that it was bad news, but from what I could hear, the adults were going to force me to go there, because I was "only a child," and in an adult's eyes, children should listen to what an adult has to say. Sunny held my hand and wimpered as we listened to the conversation.
"Charles, no! He can't go there!"
"He cannot safely do his job if he can't see."
"I'd be more than happy to accompany him."
I saw (if you could call it seeing) Violet run up to me, even if her dress was only a purple blur.
"Klaus, are you SURE that your glasses are broken?" she asked, solicitous about my safety as always.
"I'm sure," I said in dismay, holding the wreck in her general direction. "I really do think I should -"
Before I could say anything more, I was grabbed roughly and was being led outdoors, through the wooden gate, and onto the relatively calm streets.
I of course couldn't see what was going on, but I could hear an occasional car and the rhytmatic pounding of feet on pavement, and soon enough, on wood as I was led up a set of stairs. I saw nothing but a large, greenish circle with a black door in the center and a sign that hung over it, proclaiming nothing but scribbles, like some sort of alien language. The door was opened, and I was roughly pushed inside.
I noticed that I was in what appeared to be a small waiting room, from what my vision could make of the myriad colors that swam in front of my eyes. I went up to what I thought was the reception desk, signed my name on what appeared to be a sign-in sheet, and walked to what seemed to be a chair with red cushions.
After a few minutes, I heard someone come in from my left and take my hand.
"Dear me," the female (for she obviously was, from the sound of her voice) asked, "What ever is the matter?
I relayed my story about the fall and showed her the broken glasses.
"Oh, how terrible," She said sympethetically. One really annoying thing about being an orphan is that people are always trying to help you, even if you are fully capable of being able to do something yourself. You can try to explain, but they always attempt to help you out in one way or another, even if it's just to watch over your shoulder whilst you do it. And then, if you should accidentally hurt yourself, they make a huge fuss about it. "My name is Dr. Orwell, by the way."
"Pleased to meet you," I said, "What an interesting last name. You must get that a lot."
"Actually, no. You must be quite well-read for your age to know that."
"Yes, I am. I love to read, actually."
"It's always nice to see a young person so interested in literature. What is your name?"
"Klaus. Klaus Baudelaire."
She lead me into a small white room with only a single chair. She sat me in it and ran the regular tests for eye examination. My guess was that it had taken about an hour or two, but I assumed that it may have taken a little longer. There was a clock in the room, but I could not read its numbers until Dr. Orwell gave me a new pair of glasses to put on.
As soon as I did, I could tell that something was horribly wrong.
I had left around one o' clock. It was now four.
Alarmed by this, I counted out the moments from lunch at twelve-thirty until now. Our lunch break took about a half-hour, then we worked for about an hour until one, when my glasses broke and I was lead into the eye-shaped building. I had waited for about 10 minutes and then was lead here around one-thirty. That meant my treatment had taken almost three and a half hours, and of course a normal appointment for new glasses and a check-up didn't take nearly that long.
Then I noticed how unnaturally clean and empty the room was. It was plain white, as I had noticed earlier, and had no windows. But that wasn't the strange thing about it: The room had no optometry equipment, other than the eye-checking chart, no tables, no desks, nothing. Not even a chair for Dr. Orwell. Nothing at all except for the chair and the eye chart. I became extremely nervous and attempted to move my arms and legs, but to my horror, they had been strapped down. I glanced around in panic, wanting to escape as soon as possible.
"Please, don't struggle," the optometrist said. "It will all be over in a few minutes. Just calm down." As much as I wanted to rebel against her words, there was something oddly soothing about her voice, and I became a little calmer. That is, until I noticed Dr. Orwell remove some kind of pendulum from her pocket.
A sudden image from a fictional book I had once read, Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism, flashed into my mind. In it, there was an orphaned girl who found out that she could hypnotize people, just by looking into their eyes. The book had mentioned the use of pendulums, but only breifly, and it was this image of Molly with a pendulum she had bought in the book that I saw. "You..." I could scarcely say the words. "You... You're going... t-t-to hypnotize me!"
"Oh dear, you've figured me out, haven't you?" The false optometrist didn't sound friendly anymore.
"But... why me?" Stupid thing to ask, I couldn't help thinking, She's an evil hypnotist. Does she NEED a reason? I felt the metal clamps around my arms tighten; felt the chair tilt back; felt something cold and metallic clamp around my head, restraining it.
"Because, Klaus," Dr. Orwell said, striding over to me, "You were foolish enough to not watch were you were going." I knew she meant my being tripped by the foreman, and I was about to offer an angry rebuttal, but thought better of it. This woman could, if she so chose, program my mind to harm my siblings - or myself. She could make me do anything that she wanted me to, and so it was better that I not make up some witty retort that she would most likely take into offense. "And," she replied, giving me an ominous look, "Because a close friend of mine asked me to."
I was about to ask what she meant when I heard a terrible, rough laugh from behind me, followed by Count Olaf's unmistakeable tone of voice. "So we meet again, Klaus," he said, stepping around to the front in order to face me. "This time the tables have turned.You're in our house now. You've been fooled, child, and there's nothing that you can do about it."
I was too terrified about my current predicament to say anything as Olaf moved back and Orwell moved forward, pendulum in hand. "Dear boy, please do try to relax," she said in what was undoubtably meant to be a calm voice. "You're as stiff as a wooden plank. Then again," she swung around behind me, lowering the golden pendulum just inches from my face, "A hypnotist has the power to make even the toughest resistor melt like butter." She started the pendulum swinging, and soon there was nothing but me and that golden, eye-shaped charm, slowly moving back and forth. Right... left... right... left... I continued to watch, falling deeper and deeper into the trance. I attempted to fight the urge to close my eyes, using what little bit of consciousness I had left, but the attempt was futile. I could feel myself slowly tumble into darkness. "No..." I managed to say, and the last thing that I heard was Olaf laughing evilly and Orwell's sly, calm voice fade into echoey words as I slipped slowly into unconsciousness.
At this point, my associate who witessed this event could not relate anything more, although she does remember being dragged into a small, windowless white room and a golden eye that seemed to be drifting back and forth. This story was told from Klaus' point of view to protect the agent from danger and to make it more interesting for you, the reader.
Sugary Snicket wishes to thank you for reading this fanfiction. And now, a brief note:
NOTE: If you fall asleep while reading this, it's not because I hypnotized you. If your mom or dad says that you stopped reading this and squawked like a chicken, it's not because I hypnotized you. On the count of three, I want you to give the author a review, preferably a good one. 1... 2.. 3!