The Mr. Fry Story

Around three years ago, I wrote several pages of “The Mr. Fry Story”.   I actually had no plot in mind–just felt like writing a story, so that’s what I did.  ”The Mr. Fry Story”, as it came to be referred to by my sisters, however was never finished; but this evening, one of my sisters begged to post it on my blog.  After much deliberation, I decided I would go ahead and share the first part with you all. (Please forgive any grammatical errors which you may very well come upon.  My proof-reading tonight may not have been up to par.)  Enjoy!  And let me know what you think :-)

“You have to take this to Mr. Fry. It’s very important. Please don’t lose it!”

“I can’t do that!” I began, dismayed at the idea of having to go to, by myself, to the house of Mr. Fry.

“You are very well able to, and you must,” was the firm reply.  “Also don’t let anyone know what you have.”

“What is it anyway? I wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you; it’s safer that way. Now go.” I was sent with an impatient shove toward the door. I walked a few steps outside, then turned around and went back.

“Give me some directions.” I insisted to my employer. “You know I’ll get lost otherwise.”

“Alright, alright; listen carefully. Go straight on the main road, until you come to where the road forks. Go left. Turn at the first right, three time. Then go straight. You’ll come to Mr. Fry’s property. You can figure it out from there.” I repeated the directions to him as a small precaution, and I was on my way.

I walked straight for a while without noticing where I was going. I had whistled a bit and held some conversations with myself, when I suddenly realized I needed to think about where I was going. The road I was taking could not be defined as straight. It twisted and turned, first to the right, then the left, and so on. However, I decided that, as I had not come to a fork in the road, this must be the correct way.  I continued on when I was knocked to the ground from…I can’t say what.

“Why” I sputtered. “What’s happened?” I rose to my feet and spun around several times looking for the cause of my fall, but I couldn’t see anything – just that same winding road I had been walking on for what was beginning to seem like hours. My fall forgotten, I began to contemplate whether or not I was going the correct way to Mr. Fry’s house. I had been to his place hundreds of times; but now that I really had to get there, I couldn’t seem to remember a thing.

“Let me just think about the directions I was given.” I said aloud, beginning to become somewhat concerned. “Go straight until the road forks. Go left. Then turn right, then left, then right.  Wait a minute; that’s not correct. This is it – straight until the road forks. Left at the fork, and then left three more times. That’s it!” I congratulated myself for remembering the directions so perfectly and so quickly.

I began on my way, once again. As I walked, the sun began to set, and pretty soon it was close to dark. Still I hadn’t come to the fork in the road. “I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, for he couldn’t have meant for me to walk this far. I shall turn around.” I commenced running, and in the dark of night many miles back, I came upon the fork in the road. I glanced at my pocket watch as I turned left. It was quite late.

I tried to run faster, and pretty soon I came to my first left. I confidently took it and continued on my way.  Half an hour later, I came to my second left. However, this time I wasn’t quite so confident as to whether I was remembering my directions correctly. But I was so late as it was! I just had to do what I remembered.  I took the left hoping that soon I would come upon some late night traveler who could affirm to me that I was headed toward Mr. Fry.

After another hour I had completed all of my directions, but what met my eyes did not appear to be what I had remembered. Had there been some mistake? I began to worry. Surely I hadn’t taken another wrong turn a ways back. That was impossible. Or was it? No I had followed the direction explicitly. I must just be remembering wrong about how his place looked.

With this determined, only one problem remained. There were no homes anywhere in sight. Whether or not I had remembered the surroundings of my destination correctly, I did know that a house should be sitting directly in front of my now. Oh where had that house gone?  Houses don’t just disappear.  A sickening feeling came into my stomach as I contemplated what could be wrong.  Was I supposed to have taken three lefts, as I had done, or should I have taken three rights?

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