…a pinhole look into the life of one not-so-ordinary girl.
The Many Lives of Fritzi
The Pogo Stick
to view the beginning of chapter one, click here.
Chapter 1 Continued
Fritzi indulged her hands. She touched everything in sight. She picked up most things that weren’t too heavy and looked at every side of them and under them and into them. She began to indulge some of her other senses. She would put her ear to containers that weren’t opened. She would open containers that were closed if they weren’t see-through. She would sniff their insides. She gutted drawers and dispersed the contents of shelves. She even found a garage-door opener in her father’s desk and thought it strange, since they didn’t have a garage. The shed was like a life-size Matryoshka doll. One thing opened up to reveal even smaller and smaller things. It was the best game of hide-and-seek she’d ever played.
She began to wonder how she’d put everything back in its place. She didn’t want her father becoming aware of misplaced things, and consequently suspicious, therefore locking her out somehow. She began to make plans to sneak into the shed every day until she had seen and touched every thing. She had so many things to look up on Wikipedia just the research alone would take her a month or more because, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, Fritzi always had to click every link on every page in Wikipedia as to know everything about everything she was researching.
Fritzi began to tidy up after herself. She started with the top shelves and worked her way down. She used the stepladder her father must use for something much higher than the shelves because he could easily reach the top shelves without the ladder. She was working on one particular shelf that was home to lots of different chemicals. She reached up with the jar in her hand and one of her feet slipped a bit on the ladder step. She dropped the jar. The chemical bottle broke open and began to spill out onto the floor beneath her.
Allister had nervously hung about the door of the shed, refusing to go in. He was startled by the noise the bottle made when it broke open and reluctantly stepped inside to investigate. He gave the chemical a sniff.
“I know, Allister. I know. But there’s nothing I can do about it now,” she said.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t been more cautious. She hoped her father had put it on the top shelf because he had no immediate need for it and not because it was so significant to whatever he did in there every day. She looked around for something to use to clean up the mess without having to go back to the house.
Allister didn’t lick the chemical. A sure sign of something really foul is a dog not licking it because they will lick anything. Fritzi would’ve noticed that Allister hadn’t licked it had she not been preoccupied looking for something to clean up the mess with.
Her eyes searched and searched. As she forced her eyes to ignore all the things she hadn’t been able to touch yet, she noticed something peculiar. One wall of the shed was wooden. It was the wall to the right of the door. She hadn’t been to that side yet because her eyes immediately saw the jars of formaldehyde to the left of the door when she first walked in.
Fritzi exited the shed and walked around to the left side. The outside wall was tin, just like the rest of the shed inside and out, except the one wooden wall inside. She went back inside the shed and stood in front of the wooden wall. She wondered what could be behind it.
She noticed a flash of green and then blue lights through a crack in between two of the wooden panels. There was also a family portrait hanging on the wall right in the middle of it. She began to feel the frenzy again. She began to feel that she must know what was behind the wall.
Her father had to have been able to get back there by way of an easy, efficient, quiet entry, since she had never heard any odd noises. Something must have been put in place to remove the wall whenever it needed to be removed; sort of like a garage door.
An idea instantly demystified her brain. She knew what she must do. She went over to her father’s desk and seized the garage-door opener. She pointed the small piece of plastic in the direction of the wooden wall and pressed the button.
Tune in on Fridays for more of Fritzi!
~ I also want to take a moment to thank my big sister Genon, who so kindly and graciously, efficiently and quickly critiqued my short story to make it ever-so-much better and easy for you to read. She’s a gem!