The Green Novel

I awoke to quiet humming, resonating from across the room. A slow song, sincere, almost loving in melody. I had heard the tune before, but I couldn't place it.
I sat up and instantly regretted it. My back ached like I had slept on a rock and my hair was a mess.
My hair is like finely spun gold and I only say this because it's the only the thing I like about myself.
Skullbones sat on the red couch, across from me, reading an old-looking, green novel. It had German writing on the hard cover.
Her raven hair was pretty much always the same, puffy with small waves. I think her hair suits her, but she bleached and dyed the tips. For Halloween it was orange, but now her tips were a florescent violet. It feels like people don't give her a second glance, ride her off as a punk or a delinquent and keep walking. This is so far from the truth, it's on Mars.
She is a bit of a punk sometimes, but she's very funny and creative. I remember she used to make little ninjas out of rocks and electrical tape. We took them to bible camp and shot them with BB guns.
"You've been here for, like, a million years, and you haven't found any better bedding?" I grumbled.
"Don't remind me," Bones sighed. "I slept on the floor a couple days ago and I couldn't get up in the morning."
When Bones says stuff like that, she said it quietly so only I can hear. I think she doesn't want people to think she's weak, which is completely ridiculous, 'cause she's a bad-ass.
I stood up, stretching my spine back into place.
Pewdie was presumably in the bathroom. I can't see him from where I stood, but I could hear him humming.
Cry was standing at the open wardrobe across from the table. He sighed and closed the doors solemnly. He crossed to the couches, waving Pewdie to follow. Bones stood up.
"We have officially run out of food," Cry said after a long moment.
Pewdie and Bones both started talking at once.
"Well, that's just great," Pewds said, rubbing his still wet hair in a towel.
"We've been searching for days!" Bones cried.
"There's probably nothing left..." Pewdie muttered.
"Don't say that!" She replied.
"You have water here?" I asked.
"Which means," Cry continued, hushing them. "We all need to go out and look until we find something."
"And if run into something nasty on the way?" Pewds raised an eyebrow. "I almost died on my own."
"Now that there's four of us, we can split into pairs-" Was all he could say before-
"Dibs on Bones!" I cried, sliding next to her.
"Hey, no fair!" Pewds cried.
"I'm picking the pairs," Cry called back authority. "I'll take Skullbones, and Lofty, your with Pewds."
"What? Why?"
"Not that I don't trust you, but... Yeah, no, I just don't trust you on your own."
"Fine," I huffed.
"Good," Cry replied. "Get your stuff together, we're leaving in five minutes."
He and Bones walked off to the shelves.
"He was totally talking about you," I whispered, leaning towards Pewds.

As I stepped out of the door, I stepped into a horror movie. The Hideout (as they called it) had a window past the couches. It was tall and wide, framed and barred by huge rods of coppery steel. Outside the windows the sun rose high in azure, but the inside of the manor was dark and dank, the halls elongated and forbidding.

Almost dripping of affliction.
"Who intentionally buys a painting this unsettling?" I wondered aloud.
Outside the Hideout, in the hallway, a torn painting hung, teetering above a long oak table pushed against the wall. The dark edges of the table were carved in swirling loops. The gold edges of the paint were engraved in a similar fashion.
The canvas of the painting was torn off the left side and bits of the middle, the only image left being a long piece of draped, black lace across a stone slab.
A hand, as pale as snow hung, limp from the slab.
Bones joined me next to the painting. She tilted one way and then the other, until finally-
"That is pretty grotesque," She agreed.
"I don't even - I can't even think of what that could have been," Pewds shook his head.
"Really?" I asked in a deep, gaudy tone.
"Indeed, hmm..." Bones replied, in an old english manner, without missing a beat.
"Come on, Bones," Cry sighed. The two walked off into the right of the hall.
"I say, Smithers! It is a fine day for a cup of tea," I continued, bringing an arm in front of my chest.
"Yes it is, indeed, a fine day," Pewds replied, extending an arm, an invisible lady perched on the crook of his elbow.
"'El-lo, 'ello Gov-"
A loud crash startled us both. We both jumped.
"Sorry! M'bad..." Bones sounded from where she and Cry disappeared.
"And he thought you couldn't be trusted," I laughed nervously, sliding away from Pewdiepie.
"You were so scared."
"Sh-shut up!"
Pewdie grinned. "What ever you say, jumpy."
We continued the hall, though cautiously. We turned the corner and I found we were back where I met Pewdie yesterday. There was a door in front of us and two to the right, down the hall.

"That was our old hideout," Pewds said quietly, gesturing to the door before us. "And now it's the monster's"

"Didn't Cry shot it?" I asked as we ducked behind the fallen bookshelf.

"He shot a brute, but I guess there was another, the one we saw yesterday," Pewds sighed.

"Is there anything still in there?"

"Maybe," Pewdie replied after a moment. "We pretty much had to drop everything. If you're thinking of going in there, don't."

"There could be supplies in there," I replied.

"Then you go in," Pewds frowned.

To enter the monster's hideout, read Purple. To continue on, read Yellow.