The cold, cheerless weather was best described in one word: November. The trees that had already shed their leaves bitterly wished they hadn’t, it was far too cold for anything like that. The ones who clung pathetically to their last foliage sullenly dripped late-afternoon raindrops. No one wished to express the weather conditions any further, for to do that the unfortunate person would have to go outside, or at least look out the window. No one volunteered to do the depressing, thankless task, so most ignored the weather and went about their late Monday afternoon business.

Not much happens on late Monday afternoons, so a good activity proves often to visit the library. Obviously, not many people knew that. There were few people going into the library.

Stone lions crouch at the foot of the stairs, eternally guarding their house of knowledge with frowning glares. The inside was as all proper libraries were: vast rows of books, people traveling down them, running their fingers along spines as if they could tell the contents of a book by touch. The librarian watched with silent approval, and on the hard wooden bench sat on lone girl. She surveyed the expansive collection of books passionately. In her hand, she held her new library card, with her name printed in small, appropriate letters. Emily B. Shields. It went on to add her new address, the one she wasn’t familiar with yet.

She’d moved three times in her life, and on the last two, this one and the one before that, one of the first things she had done was find the local library and get a new card. She was thinking about Tuesdays. Tuesdays were an odd topic to pick to ponder over in a library, but, as she would have pointed out, thinking about crayfish at the time would have been just as normal. Those certain days of the week were frustrating.

As the day after Monday, most have realized that pouting and refusing to get up would not help, but still wanted to. After a taste of what Monday had given them, Tuesday can very well be worse.

Tuesdays weren’t particularly bad for her. She just happened to be thinking about Tuesdays in general. Little did she know that destiny was about to sit down next to her.

Actually, destiny decided that it would rather have a cup of coffee first, watch a telephone program, and do the crossword in the newspaper before going, or something or other. All that is known is that destiny decided to wait and hour or two.

The person who sat in the seat that destiny would have otherwise occupied was another girl, younger than she was by about a two years, maybe eight. The hair was pink, and oddly styled. The two cones of hair on top of her head made her look rather like a stuffed rabbit, the type found in department stores near the Easter season. Two tuffs of hair came down from the cones. Her face was freckled, and her eyes were a brownish red color. She looked very different from herself. She had hazelnut colored hair, which, when braided in the two customary plaits, could reach her elbows. The braids were held up at the top by hair ties, the kind that had two plastic balls on them. Her skin was also freckles, but only a few on her nose, and her skin was just a bit darker. Her eyes were expressive, but when she wanted to, she could pull down a mental ‘shield’, showing nothing going on in her head. And they were a perfect blue, deep and a shade almost never found in nature.

On that gloomy Monday, no one in the library, on the street, or even in the whole city knew what was going to happen so very, very soon...

* * *

Halfway across town, a rip appeared in the sky. In the air itself, a large hole in a place that couldn’t have a visible gap, just about four feet above the ground. And halfway across town, a dark and shadowy something fell out of the rip in the air. It landed on its hands and knees on the cracked concrete. The dismal back of the Laundromat showed through the gloom.

Yes, it had came through the hole in the air, like an evil, writhing shadow, but it had came from exactly the same place. Exactly the same, place, but somewhere else. This creature had came from a different world, but behind the same Laundromat in the same city- a parallel universe! Something had happened to the thin fabric between all the different Earth’s- anything could climb through the rip in the sky, anything! The thing could have come from any of the million different planet Earth’s- but one thing was clear about it, one thing. Wherever it had came from was a world of nightmares!

A/N: Ex Profundus... (Very) roughly Latin for ‘Out of the deep.’ I couldn’t think of a better title, kay? This is only the prologue of a quite long story. Sorry it’s so short at the moment, but I promise more, soon. Oh, come on! Why must you give me that unbelieving look? Why?????

Claimer: *Does happy dance.* I own it, you don’t! I own it, you don’t! I own my ficcy, my character, my day, my evil person/thing/dude, er.... *thinks* my words, my Laundromat, my title, my name, myself.... Disclaimer: I don’t own... Sailor Moon, even though there isn’t much, yet, and any other thing you recognize. But everything else is mine! Except this computer. And this computer chair. And....

END CHAPTER ONE I hope you like it enough to put it up. This is the first place I'm trying to post it on, so I'd really, really, appreciate it if you told me how I did so far. Thank you so much.