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gendervoid-omni · 3 years

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Arlington

!!!!THE FOLLOWING MAY NOT BE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE AND ALL CHARACTERS AND ARLINGTON ARE FICTIONAL!!!!

Date: 1770 March 4th

Ernest dashed through the streets of Arlington, choppy milk chocolate hair flopping around in the wind. Newspapers flew back into the street as I accelerated to the town’s square to pass out the papers. Oops. I think looking back as I practically fly through the clay buildings. Horses and wagons clatter by, and the buildings grow taller signaling that I’m almost at the town square. Better pick those up later or I’ll get an earful of it from Mr. Miller. I turn my head looking forward, only to have a few seconds as a door rushes up at me. “Whoa!” The door makes a loud BANG! As I bounce off it like a skipping stone, but sadly land unlike one. Owwww. I rub my head, the first thing to come into contact with the door from my place on the ground, shifting my right hand through my hair to rub my skull. There's a long dragged-out sigh, and I look up to see a young man of average height with dusty brown hair and dull green eyes standing in the doorway of which I just ran into at full speed. I stopped rubbing my head and gave him a crooked smile. “Why are you like this Ernest?” William rubs his temples, shoulders sagging. “It’s comfortable on the ground?” I ask that pathetic smile of mine still on. “Mind helping me up?” I stretch out a hand to William, and he glares at it before sighing once again and helping me up. I brushed my brown coat free of the dust, gave a grin, and asked; “How's your day been?”

William groans and snarls in frustration and starts picking up the newspapers I dropped from my fall. “I swear- I can’t believe-” He mutters in frustration. I watch, leaning on the frames of the door. William continues to pick up the papers as I fiddle with my fingers. At some point, he’s finally done with my chore, stands up, and clenches the papers in his hands. This is the fourth time this week. I think. “This is the fourth time this week Ernest!” William snarls, newspapers crumbling a bit in his hands, as he walks up to me, and pokes me in the chest. “When will you learn to look forward?” “Hmm.” I think deeply into my memory, and I have never, never, looked forward. “I think I’ll learn when folks figure out if the chicken or the egg came first, William.”

William pales. “Never start that kind of hijinks in town again Ernest.” He turns and looks at me from inside the bookstore. “Never.” I follow him in and pick up a book; Candide. “Come off it,” I say looking at the cover, some man in a powdered wig is smiling. Rich. He looks like a person who's never worked a day in his life. “It was just a joke.” I start flipping through the novel, getting smudges of mud on the pages. William snatches the book out of my hands and puts it back. “Well then, it was a joke that caused a riot. Now, don’t you have someplace other than ruining my books? Maybe you’ll visit that crazy man Nicholas who should be in a booby-hatch somewhere?” I scowled at William.“He’s not crazy; Just knows how to enjoy life, unlike you.” I shoot back. He responds by saying; “There are around 1,010,300 words in the English language but none of them express how much I want to hit you with a broom.” “Oh! That’s a good one!” I cross one arm and put my right hand to my chin. “And perhaps, the best course of action is action.” William walks off, grabs something, and comes back. “Get!” He shouts, hitting me on the top of my head with a broom. “Leave!” “AAAAAA! I’m going I’m going!” I scramble out of the shop, and out into the streets, where I only have a moment to put myself back together, before I hear a joyful cry of; “Ernest!”

Nicholas was extremely bored. Bored, Bored Boooreed. The single word echoing, well more like singing, in my head. There was nothing to do today. I put my right elbow on the table that sat in the back of the clothing shop. There had been only one order yesterday, which was already made, and today had been silent. Just what could be stopping people from coming? I thought, sinking into the table. Of course, people could just not have the money needed, but there’s always the rich folks that come in all the time. I straightened myself up, a sudden idea popping up in my head. They could all be pulling up the stakes to Boston. It made sense. Boston was a city that meant better business, and better business meant more money. Pulling up the stakes to go to another city or town took time and money, no matter how close it was. I held my mouth and giggled.

Which means, Nicholas silly, no one is going to be coming today. “Hmm.” Well, I do have to get new fabrics, and threads anyway. I stand up, grab the keys to the shop, and go out. Once I lock the door behind me and take a look outside at Arlington’s square. As I take notice of my surroundings, with a bit of shock, I see a redcoat. Strange. Most of the time military presence here is down to its smallest amounts. After all, most of them are in Boston. I giggle. Just like all the townsfolk. I narrow my red-brown eyes behind my glasses. I swear that I’ve seen him before though. “Hmm.”

I turn my head from the strange soldier to the other side of the square. “Get! Leave!” “AAAAAA! I’m going I’m going!” This yelling is followed by a boy with brown hair, and also brown eyes scrambling into the snow-covered street. Ernest must have been pushed out of William’s bookstore again. I give Ernest a moment before jogging over and shouting; “Ernest!” He turns around with a surprised smile. “Nicholas!” He walks over and asks; “What are you doing out of the shop? Actually I don't think I’ve seen you out of the store.” His smile drops from his face, looking behind me at the square. “That's weird. Normally there are more people here.” He turns back to me, worried. “Do you think people are leaving?” I give a little nod. “Most likely going to Boston.” His eyebrows go up even higher. “But-” Oops. Better distract Ernest before he falls into a never-ending staircase of what-ifs. “Do you know I need help because I’m pretty much a hermit?” I asked cutting him off. “Uh, no,” Ernest says, completely forgetting the fact that Arlington might become a ghost town. “Popular colors of threads and fabrics.” I grab his hand and pull him with me to what I presumed to be the Fabric shop. “Now come on!” “That’s not the Fabric shop, Nicholas!” “Oops.”

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