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Story Idea: Chapter 12, part 2 |
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He watched her make the soup. She worked so quickly. He saw that the soup was made with some meat, lettuce, carrots, some roots, and plants that he’d never saw before. After gathering it all together in the pot and heating it, she washed some berries. She organized them in a wooden bowl. She walked over to him with the bowl in her hands and placed it in front of him. He looked at the berries then at her. He was about to have one but suddenly stopped. He looked at the girl again. She stood there and watched him.
“Umm, w-w-would you w-w-want one too,” he asked. “What do you mean?” “W-w-well…umm…do you w-w-want one?” “Oh! Well… I don’t know, I’ve never been asked before.” “Do you w-w-want one,” he asked again, as he squished the berry that was in his hand. “Oh, I’ll clean that!”
Peter quickly grabbed her wrist. She quickly turned her toward him. Her eyes were filled with fear. He released her and looked at the bowl. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He then looked at her again.
“No, you don’t,” he said calmly. “What?! I don’t understand.” “I can clean it just as much as you can. It was my fault, not yours. I’ll clean it.” “Oh, I…I’m sorry.” “What for, you did nothing wrong.” “I’m not used to being treated like a normal person. I’m used to being a“ “Slave. I figured that out. I’m the one that should be sorry.” “No you did nothing to hurt me.” “Your eyes told me differently when I grabbed your wrist.” … “…Anyways I haven’t properly introduced myself have I?” “No.” “Well, my name is Peter Lightheart. I am the king’s secretary.” “Oh, has the city regained its lost finances from my master?” “We’ve managed. So…what your name?” “Well…I don’t think I have one.” … “It’s a bit different yes but I got used to it.” “Well you do need a name. I refuse to go around calling you girl or woman, or you even.” “You’re a really nice guy Peter.”
He stopped talking and went back to looking at the bowl. He felt his face begin to flush with red. He wasn’t used to complements. Being picked on, teased, bullied, ignored, that’s what he was used to. He looked back at the girl but she was gone. He looked over to the stove and saw she went back to cooking. Good job you idiot. You’ve just made the only person who thinks you’re nice to go away, he thought, angry with himself.
Rosalinda Plaisance · Mon Sep 29, 2008 @ 09:40pm · 0 Comments |
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