Gavin and I try our best to help out the man in the kitchen, but neither of us have ever gotten the opportunity to be in a kitchen before. Finally, after Gavin drops the pie crust on the floor a second time, the man kindly asks us to sit down and just watch. We do.
After he bustles around the kitchen, spoons filling into the crust, and shoves the pie into the oven, the man sits down beside us on the floor. There is sweat on his forehead. It is really hot with the oven blazing away.
“Sir?” Gavin starts, “You never told us your name.”
He gives us a strange smile smile. “There’s a reason for that. You may call me Miller, though. It’s as good of a name as any.”
“Why are you doing this, Miller?” I ask.
He looks around at his kitchen. It is small. There are uneven tiles set into the floor, the furniture is banged up, and the table is a mess. Miller smiles. “Because once, I was just like you, but someone gave me a leg up in the world. I may not have a mansion, but I have more than enough.”
“You’re telling me that you’re doing this all out of the kindness of your heart?” Gavin sounds dubious.
“Well, not quite,” Miller admits. “There is something that I need you to do for me.”
“Of course,” I mutter under my breath. Gavin shifts uncomfortably.
“Oh, don’t be that way. It’s nothing hard. I just want you to direct any nice orphan like yourselves who seems down on his or her luck this way. Maybe I can help them out too.” Miller looks out the window.
“I still don’t understand why you’re being so nice to us,” I say. My fingers trace along the gout between the tiles in his floor. The tiles are a midnight blue with a ceramic sheen. Most of them are spider webbed with cracks and covered with specks of something, but to me, they look like the midnight sky.
“What’s to understand? I’m confused as to why more people aren’t nice, as you say.” He starts to get up. His joints pop and he moans. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but I can still help out where I’m needed.”
We stand as well, silently. Miller leads us back to the sitting room where he sits behind the desk again and we take seats on stools.
“So will you do that for me?” he asks.
“Do what?” asks Gavin.
“Will you lead any decent fellow, down on his luck, to my house?” Miller taps his fingers on the shabby desk.
Me and Gavin nod together. Miller smiles again.
“That’s good, good,” he says.
There is silence for a short time, and I shift on the stool. Finally, Gavin speaks. “So, Mister… uh, Miller, what did you mean when you said you were like us? Were you an orphan too?”
“Indeed, I was. But I didn’t live on the streets like you two do, I assume. Back then we had an orphanage. It was an absolute nightmare. There was nothing I could do to get out of it. They brought in any kid living on the street.”
Gavin takes in a surprised breath. “In our city?”
“Yes, let me finish. One day, a young gentleman came in and took me from that place. It doesn’t matter what blessings and curses followed that day, but in the end, someone helped me out. And I’m paying it forward.”
“What happened to the orphanage?” I ask. I can smell the aroma of the baking pie in the kitchen. My stomach rumbles in eager want.
Miller winces. “It burned down. And everyone inside it burned with it.”
My mouth goes dry. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“I didn’t have very many friends there, but the loss of the few I did have hurt deep.” Miller’s eyes mist up, and he sits looking absolutely despondent for a few moments before waving his hand in front of his face. “But that was long ago. I have overcome many worse things since then. But remember this, you never forget your friends.”
Gavin and I give each other a look that means, you’re one of those friends I’ll never forget.
There’s more silence until Miller sits up straighter, looking surprised. “I do believe the pie is almost finished!”
We follow him back to the kitchen where he uses a flat piece of wood to pull the pie tin out of the oven. It is golden-brown on the top, and I can see heat rising off of it.
“It takes skill to make a good pie,” Miller says. “Fortunately, I have luck on my side.” He clears a place for the pie on the table, saying, “I don’t want this pie to be stolen from the window. It’s rightfully yours.”
We stand around the pie, watching fruit flies land on spilled drops of filling.
“You never told me something,” Miller starts. “You never told me why you decided to come back with the tin. This could have easily been a trap.”
“Well, we were really hungry…” I say.
“But just because you’re hungry doesn’t mean you normally do dangerous things like trust strangers after you’ve stolen from them,” Miller points out.
Gavin shrugs. “I think it was the thieves’ language that convinced us. It either meant that you were a thief and could probably be trusted to do little more than mug us of all our nothing, or it meant that a thief had befriended you.”
“I could have forced him to write it,” Miller argues.
“Are you trying to get us to mistrust you?” Gavin asks. “And besides, if you had forced him to write it, it would have meant that you couldn’t read it, and he could have written something like ‘don’t trust it, he’s lying’ or something.”
“Clever. And no, I’m not trying to get you to mistrust me. I’m testing your common sense.” Miller crosses his arms and continues to stare at the pie.
I glance at Gavin. He shrugs. “Well,” I say, “That pie is probably cool enough to eat.”
And so they all ate pie and were happy until Gavin died and Fleta sprained her ankle and that’s when Fleta met Shep. The end.
--
A/N: I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't think. Writer's block blindsided me at the end of this one.
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125,021 Literary Works • 672,740 Reviews
Hi Fortis!
Looks like I have finally come to the end of everything when it comes to the Wool of the Prince. I will say that I did like the novel more than the short story, but I think there is a lot of ways this one can develop into something just as good as well. I like that Miller was just like them before, and could relate to everything they had been doing. It did make me wonder why he didn't know the thief language himself, but it was so honorable for him to remember who he was back then and still stay true to it by trying to help out others in his condition. I like that there can be kind people out in the world.
I have to say it though - I have to mention the ending. I completely believe you when you mentioned the writers block though xD I know, we all have moments of weakness like that. BUT nonetheless, do not give up on this story. Because I think making it longer and finding out how Gavin died or disappears from Fleta's life could just be so interesting. And in the novel she later doesn't really mention him much if at all - because it hurts? Because she would rather forget those hard times? I wanted to know why, especially after they shared the look of never forgetting each other when she later does do that. And seeing as Miller is kind of fatherly and kind, it makes me wonder if it's because of his nature being similar to Shep's that later drew Fleta to him as well. All I'm saying is that there is still a lot of potential and hope there. So make sure you don't give up on this and go and write that fabulous ending I know you are capable of
You mention that neither of them have ever gotten the opportunity to have been in a kitchen before, but then you sort of gloss over it! I feel like they need to relish in that moment. I want to see how they take in all the objects and the layout, and wondering about what it would be like if they could have a home and live in a place like this, where food is always an option. If I were in their situation I would be thinking about something along the lines of that, and I think you could insert that in there as well. Right now they are trespassing on everything they don't have and don't know if they will ever have it. How does that feel?
If we're thinking about emotions, I also would have thought that hearing about the orphanage burning down would have affected the two of them a lot more. Especially as it's people like them, trapped and unable to escape. I think Fleta at least would take a moment to think of all those lost lives and how powerless they must have felt. It was a pretty big thing to throw in there and I thought you would have lingered on the emotions it could have brought up a bit more.
That's really all I have to say actually xD It was a pleasure reading this for you, Fortis. Till next time!
Deanie x
Fort, that ending is so lazy! You totally could have extended this more for TLMS. Go through the grief and sorrow, or maybe Gavin and Fleta bring in someone who's not trustworthy (hence the 'folly').
Okay. Whew. Gotta calm down. What's done is done.
Also, I will avoid repeating Timmy's advice, so here we go:
Around the point where Miller says the orphanage burned down, Fleta is mostly still thinking about food, which makes perfect sense. This is just my internal English teacher talking, so feel free to ignore it, but I think that you could have made a really nice contrast around that particular line, because right after Miller's line, Fleta says her mouth goes dry. If before that, she'd been salivating over the aroma, then it heightens her reaction a bit more.
Next on the list are the verbs. I was going to pick on this during the last section, but it didn't seem as vital. And yes, I know you were suffering writer's block this week and had a deadline.
There are lots of state-of-being verbs lying around here. Given your poet ways, I often expect more action-ey verbs to come out in things like personification and whatnot. After all, (and I am about to repeat Timmy), those give a bit more character to the surroundings without taking up a lot of space.
The same goes for the character actions as well. For instance: [quote]he sits behind the desk again and we take seats on stools.[/i] I understand if there's nothing special about the way they sit. That's fine. I do think, however, that Gavin and Fleta probably have a way of getting into seats (or onto stools). I, for example, am too short to actually sit on a stool, so I have to slide onto it and sort of inch my way to the seat part. There is characterization in movement, which is why verb choice is so important.
(Another example might be your very common pairing of 'smile' with Miller. There must be something special about how he does it.)
Anyways, like Timmy, I did enjoy that part about the tiles. It was elegant, in a way.
Lastly, despite the lack of fleshing with your ending, I am happy that it did not depress me. I hate it when stories end in sadness (just one of those people, you know?), and I am pretty sure I would have bawled if you had taken this any other direction. Granted, it's probably a good measure of plot and characterization, making a reader cry...
So, uh... I'm not sure I have anything left to say. I'll be back for whatever short you write next, so ciao for now!
-Buggie
I feel like I have just been stabbed.
Timmy hereeee
I'm going to ignore that ending. >>
So... this seems to be the ending of Fleta's little story, right? Nothing more to this? Okay, good. Why did you have Miller conceal his true identity? Seems like there'd be no point to it, seeing that the end of the story is here, so no need to keep the reader's looking and waiting for what lies ahead. Might as well tell them all the secrets now. xd
typo: grout And the description immediately following this? Beautiful <3 I love it.
I HAS A COMPLAINT.
So she never forgot this dude and yackity yack-yack, right? Well, um, she forgot him. >< Because in all the 60+ chapters when we got to know her, we didn't learn anything about this Gavin. He wasn't even mentioned! Sounds to me like someone has some work to do in her editing. Unless... this is a stand-alone and you don't want the storyline to interfere with WOTP at all? In that case, which would make sense, the book reads fine. But I think this would be a wonderful way to grow the plot - bringing in as much as you can into her background.
Your description reads as too... simplistic in this chapter. Your description has never been one to continue on for pages and pages, describing superfluous stuff and etc., but you've always been wonderful at pinpointing what's important and building the image off of that, but not spending all day at it. In this chapter, I felt like we were hurried along through the description, like the narrator was tired and wanted to get it over with - doing fast-forward instead of watching it in real-time. Spend more time on the descriptions, especially Miller and the pie. Both of those feel like they were a bit on the skimpy side, as I don't have much of a picture for Miller, and I can't smell the pie. The second made me super sad. ;_; Because I know you could have made it smell soooo good.
You know, Miller has an excellent point. Why did they come back? I filed a complaint slip last week about the same thing, I remember. Good thing he's not as silly as the kids are. Man, it was so dumb of them to just rush up and ask for the second pie. >< So, so dumb, but Gavin acts as though it was purely logical to do what they'd done, because of the thieves' language. D: Oh, well. It would've made me much happier if it'd all been a big trap. heehee, so I could have said I told you so, but this was fine. At least they get to eat pie.
Read with commas. Then read without. Does this sentence really need any at all?
This is such a measly nitpick. >< Miller just pulled the pie out of the oven... so the fruit flies may be buzzing around it, but I think it'd take a while before they landed on the filling? You know, until it cools down a bit. :3
There's not much else for me to say here. It was a wonderful read all up to the last sentence. >> I thought something really cool was going to happen, maybe like Miller opening up to them about his real name, OR maybe Shep smelling the pie and walking in, thinking it was a pie for sale or something. But noooo, stupid writer's block got in the way of that and ruined all of my hopes. At least Gavin dies, eh? *adds that to the list of reasons why his name should be in the book*
Fleta sprains her ankle? D: QUICK. Call a doctor! She's about to go on a long, long sheep hunt, and needs both ankles in good shape. xd
~Darth Timmyjake
flies have an exoskeleton which protects their soft innards from burning with heat c:
Thanks for the review, timmy~
I agree. And the thing was, Miller was gonna be a lot more sinister, but then he wasn't so I wasn't sure what Fleta's folly was going to be or how Gavin was going to die. Fleta was gonna be so distraught as Gavin's passing, and only tell Shep about it, so it wouldn't have much to do with the whole novel, but I was going to edit in a couple allusions to it maybe.
But with them just palling around eating pies... well... I dunno if it's worth anything.