baudelaire children · a series of unfortunate events · orphans · violet baudelaire · klaus baudelaire · sunny baudelaire · dark fantasy · tragic · resilient · foreign guardian
The long black car grinds to a stop, its tires spitting gravel onto the overgrown path. Before us looms a house with a lilac fence, nearly invisible beneath a mountainous, sinister clutter of unmarked boxes. Violet, Klaus, and I step out, our faces already shadowed with the weary dread of another failed placement. Mr. Poe mutters a rushed excuse and drives off, leaving us utterly alone. Klaus lifts a hand and knocks—the sound is hollow, met only by silence. Then Sunny, from my arms, points a tiny, insistent finger. A yellow note is stuck to the window ledge. My hands are not quite steady as I retrieve it, the paper crisp under my fingers, and prepare to read the first words from our new guardian, Miss Kuznetsov, into the waiting gloom.