Wednesday: The Strongest Psychic

Chapter 61: Addams Family



1313 Cemetery Lane.

On a vacant lot, surrounded by swamps and a moat, stands a stately, somber mansion. From the outside, the mansion is an imposing and decadent sight. The facade was covered in foliage and twisted vines.

The knockers and mailbox seem to have a life of their own, like grotesque guardians watching over the main entrance.

Entering the mansion reveals a labyrinth of secret corridors and hidden rooms. The interior is adorned with strange objects and macabre statues. Every corner of the mansion seems to harbor some dark secret or unique oddity.

In one of the many rooms of this mansion, a conversation was taking place. The room had a gothic and eccentric atmosphere. The walls are adorned with antique tapestries and dark paintings that seem to follow you with their gaze. Hanging chandeliers, covered in cobwebs and adorned with skulls, cast a dim light that added a touch of theatricality to the atmosphere.

In the center of the room was a huge stone fireplace, always burning and emanating a comforting warmth that contrasted with the somber atmosphere of the place.

Two people were sitting on a black velvet sofa. A man and a woman.

The woman was beautiful and had pale skin and long black hair. She wore a black gothic dress to match her hair.

The man was stocky, with a flat nose, crooked teeth, and a receding chin. He was shorter in stature than the woman next to him. His hair was slicked back, and he sported a pencil-thin mustache.

Across from the two of them sat a young girl.

The girl had black hair pulled back in two long braids, a fringe over her forehead, a pale complexion, dark brown eyes, and black eye shadow. The girl was also wearing a black dress similar to the woman's dress. It was like a smaller, daintier version.

The only difference was that the girl had a blank and emotionless expression. On the other hand, the woman was smiling warmly as she looked at her.

"My dear, how long will you stay mad at us?" asked the pale, beautiful woman. Her name was Morticia Addams.

The mansion belonged to the famous old Psychic family The Addams. One of the oldest and most powerful outcast families in America.

"As long as it takes. You signed me up for Nevermore without my consent. I don't want to repeat the same steps as you, Mother," said the pigtailed girl in a monotone, and without changing her expression. Her name was Wednesday Addams.

"I promise you, my little snake, you will love Nevermore, won't you my beloved?" asked the mustachioed man. His name was Gomez Addams.

"Of course. It's the ideal school for her," said Morticia, nodding.

"Why? Why was it for you?" asked Wednesday.

"It's not about that. I mean that you'll finally be among classmates who understand you. The relationship between normies and outcasts is difficult. More so when you're an Addams," Morticia replied.

"And no. You will not be going to the Academy of the Dark Arts. We've been over that subject many times," she added as she saw Wednesday was about to speak.

"Nevermore is a magical place. It's where I met your mother, and we fell in love," said Gomez, looking passionately at Morticia, who was also looking at him.

"Stop it. I'm going to get nauseous again," said Wednesday. It was already the tenth time in the day that she watched her parents give each other passionate kisses. She'd rather stuff or bury animals than watch this.

"Those things indeed creep you out, but you must be aware of what happened in Nevermore a few months ago. Attack by unknown hooded people. Two dead. Attack by hags. I'm sure you'll love that," Gomez said with a ghoulish grin.

Wednesday for the first time agreed with anything her parents were saying in the entire conversation.

"A unique experience. Besides, I don't think it will be the last, since Luke Poe is there," said Morticia with a slight smile.

The Addams as an old and powerful family of psychics were privy to several important issues in the outcast society.

'Luke Poe...' thought Wednesday. Her eyes showed a faint gleam that quickly faded.

"John must be very proud of his son from the afterlife or wherever he is. Who knows maybe you'll end up falling in love with him, and together you'll get revenge on the Spellman family," said Gomez, not caring at all about the danger her daughter would be in.

"Oh, a couple of revenge. It's been a long time since we did the last one," commented Morticia with a nostalgic look on her face.

"Don't say stupid things. All right, I'll go," Wednesday said without changing her expression. She stood up and left the room.

"She seems to have some interest in that boy," said Gomez. He knew his daughter, and that was extremely rare. The first time he'd ever seen anything like that.

"Well, it's common. That guy murdered a person. What girl wouldn't be attracted to that? Plus, he's a successful writer. His book Carrie is proving to be a big hit. Last I know, he published his second book. Even Wednesday read it. Don't tell her I went through his room," Morticia said with a faint smile. Finally, her daughter could find friends with hern/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

characteristics, although she still saw it as a long way off.

"He's honoring Edgar Allan Poe," said Gomez with a nostalgic look. He was John Poe's partner and friend. Luke's father.

"Yes. Wednesday is writing her novel, and she hasn't finished it yet. The Poe kid already published two, and they're successful. For the first time she must feel inferior to someone her age," commented Morticia. Her daughter was narcissistic and perfect at almost everything. Except for having friends and socializing.

...

Vermont, Jericho - Nevermore.

The school had started a couple of days ago. In Principal Weems' office, a meeting was taking

place.

At her desk was Principal Weems, looking at three people: Gomez, Morticia, and their daughter, Wednesday Addams.

"You've had a very interesting academic journey. Seven schools in four years," Larissa commented, looking at Wednesday's academic report card.

She was very surprised by this. Even Luke wasn't expelled from that many schools. Only from three, and he was one of the most troubled kids she encountered at Nevermore.

"There's no fortress that can hold me. I bet it will be the same here," Wednesday said in her

usual monotone.

"What our daughter is trying to say is that she's very grateful for the opportunity," said Gomez, trying to disguise his daughter's rudeness.

"It's only been a few days since the start, but I'm sure she'll be able to incorporate it with the help of her classmates," said Larissa.

"We're sorry about that. Bureaucracy made it take a while to get the paperwork we needed," Morticia apologized.

Any time a student is expelled, it is recorded on their academic record and can affect their future educational opportunities. Luckily, they knew Principal Larissa and the board members. The Addamses had power and influence.

They didn't send their children to Nevermore, because it's a boarding school and distance. After all, psychic abilities could be taught by family members more effectively.

"No problem. Wednesday will go to the Ophelia dorm. The same as you Morticia. Your roommate will be Enid Sinclair. Classes have already started. Let's introduce you to your roommates," Larissa said, standing up.

"My little storm, we will keep in touch. Break a leg," said Gomez, hugging Wednesday, who didn't even move from her spot. She hated hugs, but she could only stand hugs from her

father.

"Dear, make friends and have fun,' said Morticia, who wanted to hug her daughter, but Wednesday pulled back slightly, so she stopped herself. Her relationship with her mother was

more strained.

Wednesday said goodbye to her parents without being too emotional and followed Principal

Weems down the halls of Nevermore. She was already wearing her custom Nevermore black uniform instead of the standard indigo.

"Today's class is Marginal History. Later, your roommate will give you a paper with all the schedules," Larissa commented.

Wednesday barely nodded her head, and the walk to the classroom was silent. Only their footsteps could be heard.

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