Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Horton Hears a Who" Only name changes and my characters. I also mixed a few real named TV shows, which aren't mine either.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. I know it's been over a year since I've updated/uploaded any story whatsoever. I just didn't have the time like I used to and later on, my computer ended up braking after 7 years. I got a new one now and it's all mine so I'm going to try my best to upload a bit more frequently now. I chose this story to continue first because it seems to be the one people still favorite the most. So without another word, here is chapter 3 everyone! (Review and Rate too ^^ )


Sometimes during the night, I have nightmares. I can't really think of the origin of the nightmares but I remember them vividly each time I awake from them. I've had the same nightmares since I can remember. Always the same thing…

"Jamie? Jamie? Jamie?"

"Where are you Jamie?"

"Are you scared?"


"Why are you running away from me?"

"Why don't you smile…"



"Why does the knife cut so deep through a person? Is it because they're weak? They can't handle the loss and pain. So they cut. Cut so deeply that a person seems to attempt to cut out the pain. Why, your mother does that… Funny how the world works son…"

"Funny how it works…"

These dreams. They're always the same. The dark hole. The endless screams. That voice. The voice of a man I have never seen face to face and yet… Knows me so well. That man always holds a knife. I can never see that ill-fated knife, but feel it's dark presence near me. My mother, who is always standing behind me, calling me as if I'm miles away from her. Our screams mold together in a deep song that continues along with the voice of that man.

These dreams are only about five minutes but seem to last for eternity. I always wake up panting and sweaty. Shaking from the realness of the dream, but calmed by the reality of being alone. I could never understand why I always get the same nightmare. It haunts me for hours. The world seems much colder after. I feel like someone will slit my throat and leave me to die alone. Alone.

After I slowly realize where I am, I slowly rise from my bed and glance at the clock. 6:43. My mother is more than likely running the streets, drugged up and insane. I fear of her safety and always ensure her most current location of where she lives so I can keep a distant eye on her. After this morning expected arrival, I doubt she went any motel and probably went straight downtown to Whospot for her daily supply.

After a light breakfast, I get ready for my day at my part-time job as a waiter down at Nib's Diner. Although being a short-time celebrity is nice, it's not a full job for everyone. If you get your two hundred-thousand dollar contract with a movie producer but can't get into another acting position then your life moves on. I remember when everyone knew who I was, I was famous. Couldn't even walk down the damn street without people screaming, "Oh my gosh doodles, it's Jojo!" Now people barely even know who I am. This vampire/hot guy production crap is taking away the older people who were here first. I guess that's what people want now. No one wants cartoons about sweet things anymore. Only sex, money, and hot guys. I'm just not into that kind of stuff.

Unfortunately, these negative thoughts about my mother's whereabouts are driving me insane. I can't go to work without at least knowing she has a place to stay. I call in to Joseph, my manager, and tell him I'm sick. He says it's cool and that they're covered today. I change out of my work close and throw on some casual stuff. I know this is dangerous but my mother is currently all I have, I can't abandon her, my father did a great job of that. I grab my keys and run out the front door, knowing I might never come back.