Worrying about how my character was reacting to every little thing stopped my writing, so I decided to ignore Thomas’s character profile for the time being and just continue writing. I know I need both characters to show more emotion, but that's a difficult thing for me to do at the same time I'm making up a story. I'll come back later and layer the emotion in.
Last week, Andrew and Thomas were on the verge of making a plan to capture the gremlins. Let’s see what they came up with.
Then just as quickly, it died. “There’s no way we’ll be able to do it, whatever you have in mind.”
“You’re very fatalistic, aren’t you?” Andrew settled back in his seat at the table. “I’d have thought with your skill level—”
“They never come into the house, and I can’t go outside while they’re there. Do you think I’m going to stand at the door and hand out cookies like some trick or treat monster?”
Andrew shook his head. “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. You really need to stop blindly following the rules.” He jumped up and flung open the front door.
A narrow path meandered between two fields of wildflower-dotted grasses. A warm breeze wafted across the landscape, wriggling the grass and flowers and making the leaves in the trees tinkle and jangle. The path petered out between two tall, narrow pines and disappeared into the undergrowth. The mystery of it tugged at Andrew and he had to suppress the urge to skip down the lane and see where it led. Instead he took five large steps outside and turned back to look at the house.
The low-set cottage sat in the small clearing as if it has grown up from the ground. Ivy covered the southern wall except where the windows sat, and stopped neatly at the corner, exposing the pale stone wall across the front. The door was thick wooden planks, secured by leather hinges that looked new. The gutters surrounding the tiled roof was simple and functional but Andrew easily imagined what it would look like in white and green lacework.
“The roof tiles would look amazing with scalloped edges, graduating from pale gray to forest green. I could do olive and blue-gray lacework with white tips, like snow, along the gutters. The walls could have a cream glaze. Rose pink and white windowsills and shutters would add sweetness. I could build a low fence across the front, and cover it in flowers, all the colors of the rainbow.” As he talked his way through his plans, Andrew wandered around the house, mentally estimating measurements and calculating how much gingerbread he’d need. When he stopped, he was back at the front door. Thomas stood in the doorway, waiting for him.
“It’s going to be a big job and take some time, but as long as you have enough ingredients, it’s doable.”
Thomas scowled at him for a few moments before pursing his lips and sighing. “The house responds to my needs. If I need four cups of flour, there’ll be four cups of flour in the bin. If I need ten, that’s how much there’ll be.”
Andrew grinned. The quicker they got started, the quicker he would get out of here and be able to buy his bakery. He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get started.”
E E Montgomery
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