Hi people! So, this takes place after all of the

Chapter 1

Tears welled up in Patricia's eyes as she placed a bunch of flowers beside a pure white gravestone. Bluebells, little John's favorites. She missed so many things about her little brother- like how he used to lie in his woods and watch the clouds go by, saying that he could see the angels and saints peeking out from behind the sky. He had been a great comfort to her all of his short life.

Patricia heard someone next to her and didn't have to turn to know that her companion was Arthur, her twin and closest confidant, and, with John gone, the only immediate family left.

As if reading her thoughts, Arthur smiled a tight smile that turned into a kind of grimace. "We still have Mrs. Haversham," but his sister just sighed and shook her head sadly.

"But Mrs. H is still not our real mom- she can not take the place of Mom and Dad." Patricia was sick of going from foster- parent to foster- parent. She used to have a sweet little family named the Rosses, but that had all changed when, five years ago, their house had burned down and taken the lives of her parents and her other little brother, Teddy. Patricia, and Arthur, age 10, and John, age 6 had been taken to an orphanage in London, where they had gone to four different families and finally gotten adopted by an aging school teacher who wanted kids. John was 11 when he had succumbed to cancer that destroyed his liver and heart.

Now 15-year old Patricia made a silent vow to her late brother that she would honor his wishes. She had found in a journal in his room when packing away his things that told how much he wanted to go skydiving and dance in the moonlight at least once in his life. Patricia would have to do those things for him since he… she did not want to think those things now on such a perfect afternoon.

"Anyway, we got packages from great-aunt Petunia" said Arthur, eager to change the subject, "I bet it is our birthday presents." The twins had their birthday on August 28, and the few presents they got were mostly from their mother's aunt and Mrs. Haversham.

Patricia stood up and dusted off her jeans, then followed her brother out of the cemetery and down the lane towards the red brick house that they shared with Mrs. Haversham. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, smelling that fresh, green smell of summer. How could she be unhappy on such a beautiful day?

As she walked with her twin, Patricia studied his sauntering figure. Arthur was tall and lanky, with curly, mouse brown hair covering his head. He had dark brown puppy eyes that twinkled when he smiled, and a small nose that twitched when he wasn't happy. His tan nose was speckled with freckles, and his thin mouth had a permanent upward curve, giving him the impression that he could always laugh.

Patricia herself had dark, brown hair that cascaded down her head in graceful waves to her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel, with green and gold specks, and long eyelashes. Her olive-brown skin was dotted with freckles. Even though they were twins, Patricia and Arthur could not look more different.

As they stepped into their house, Arthur and Patricia saw two small boxes that were labeled with their names. When Patricia opened hers she smiled and lifted out a silver teddy bear holding a scroll. Next to it was a note that read:

Happy Birthday Patricia! I was looking in a store a few moths back when I was visiting you, and I saw this lovely teddy bear that had your name written all over it. Hope it goes with your collection! Love, Aunt Petunia

Patricia chuckled when she read this, for she had a hobby of collecting things, and one of her favorite collections was a shelf of teddy bears, all different from one another. But this certain teddy bear had a pull, as if it were calling to her. Patricia checked the name on the tag: Lavender Blue- just what she would have called it, or her, according to the tag.

Setting Lavender down on a table next to her, Patricia glanced at Arthur, who wore an embarrassed, but somewhat pleased look on his face. In his hand was a thick, dusty tome titled: Mother Goose Rhymes for All Times. His sister could barely keep a straight face when she saw this, for her manly brother would usually turn his nose down at such immature literature. But now he was looking at the book with a certain amount of interest. She wondered if it had an enticing feel, like the teddy bear in her hand.

Patricia decided to sleep with her new teddy bear that night, and so after she had changed into her pajamas, and brushed her teeth, she curled up under her fluffy, purple comforter with Lavender under her arm. She read some of her book, Stories From 16th Century Italy, and then lay down and tried to go to sleep, which usually was not very hard for her. But tonight it was almost impossible, which was a surprise in itself. Little did she know what would happen to her in the near future. Finally, after 2 hours, Patricia fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the romance, treachery, and a certain amount of magic like that in her book.

Meanwhile, Arthur tossed and turned in the next room, oblivious to the fact that his twin was not falling asleep, either. He lay on his back, staring at the red ceiling of his room, and wishing he had the sleeping skills of Patricia. She could fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Then I would not have to think so much, and be sad about my miserable life, he thought. His school work had taken a turn for the worse, no matter how much Arthur studied, and he had no social skills at all, making him the most shunted kid in his whole school, Barnsbury Comprehensive

Arthur then switched his mind to the thought of the nursery rhymes that his great aunt Petunia had given him. He had wanted to read it, for it somehow had caught his attention the way other books about kid's stuff had not. He somehow really wanted to read it, but he rarely found any form of poem or children's story even important enough to keep. His great aunt, of course, did not notice this about him, and so she had picked the worse gift ever. But, she had also picked the best, since this old stack of pages was almost begging to be read, literally.

Then he had opened it up, but found it written in a language he did not know. He set out to sell the book right away, since he could not read it, but his twin had stopped him, saying the writing looked like Old Italian, that it was priceless, and please could she study it? He had relented, of course, since she had rarely looked this excited, but said the book was to stay in his room.

He now wondered if the volume was really Old Italian, and if so, how could it be priceless? Arthur thought about the old saying, one man's trash is another man's treasure. According to Patricia, it was priceless, but to him, it was an immature, if strange, book that interested him. He refused to believe it was anything else, since he strongly believed reasoning- that is, sayings.

He got out of bed and got the book from his shelf, and stared at it for a wile, imagining that he could read it. Then his jaw dropped and his eyes almost popped out of his head, for one paragraph had translated into English. Confused, the boy put the book under his pillow and turned on his side and fell asleep wondering if his small family could get any weirder. Trust in Patricia to think of an old book as priceless and turn to old Aunt Petunia to send you an old-self translating -book as a gift.

When Patricia opened her eyes, she almost thought she was still dreaming, but four things quickly became apparent to her. (1) She was lying on the floor in a room that was totally different than her lavishly decorated, purple and green suite;(2) Arthur was beside her. He jerked awake and stared around at the unfamiliar, cellar-like room. The only things in it were empty crates stacked by one wall, and bird perches and seed were thrown against another. The walls and floor were stone; and the floor was covered with straw. (3) Patricia heard wedding bells, though she knew not of a marriage. And last, the teen was used to hearing screaming in the city, but here it seemed out of place, even freaky. Whether the high-pitched shrieks she heard from close by- maybe even in the next room- were from terror or delight, Patricia did not know.