TITLE: To Fill My Pot With Gold
GENRE: MG Fantasy
Mortimer sat down in his easy chair for the last time. His life was like the smoke from the flames that disappeared up the chimney. His eyes ran across the fireplace mantle. He followed the curves of grain in the oak and the details in the intricate carvings. The fireplace and easy chair were two of the things about the cottage that he first fell in love with. Never again would he be able to curl up in this chair in front of the fire with his poetry while the rain fell outside.
Despite the flames, he felt cold when he looked down into small bag to see the few possessions that Sebastian would allow him to take. The bag was small, but there wasn’t much in there. His notebook was there, as well as a few quills and a small pot of ink. He wanted to make sure he could write his poetry when the mood struck, even though he didn't expect it would strike any time soon.
His empty pot was in the bag as well. No one would object to him taking that, Sebastian had taken the gold from it decades ago. He shook his head as he looked at it. A leprechaun with an empty pot was an embarrassment. There was still plenty of empty space.
He stood and walked out of the parlor and put his hand on the maple molding that went around the entry frame to the parlor and felt its warmth. In the kitchen he caressed his pots and pans. He saw the breakfast dishes sitting and the sink and shrugged.
“Sebastian can take care of those. He’s taking everything, he may as well get those too, I swept the porch for him last night.”
Mortimer walked out of the kitchen. A wavy ghost looked back at him as he looked at the highly polished cherry floor in the hallway.
“Mortimer Purcell Brennan, you are a total and complete failure. You had all this, and couldn’t even keep it. Maybe Sebastian is—”
Pounding at the door interrupted his monologue. “Come on, Brennan.” A voice shouted from outside. “It's time to be out. I've a sale to be on with.”
Sebastian. He was like a parasite feeding on others’ misery. Mortimer had planned on being out before he arrived, but he overslept, and then the fiasco with his shoes. He spent an hour the last night polishing his black shoes. This morning, the right shoe was missing. Mortimer had torn the bedroom apart looking for it, but it was nowhere to be found. To make it worse, the left shoe of his brown pair was missing. What a sight he must look. Surely Sebastian was trying to make him look that much worse.
Mortimer attempted to straighten his old red jacket and rumpled dusty blue trousers, but they wouldn't straighten.
With his faded yellow shirt and decades out of style green cap he did his best to look dignified, but suspected that it came off as more silly.