If he can't fix it, leave it . That's what Henry was told. But he was also told he was stubborn, and a stubborn carpenter is also a bored. Domestic. carpenter.
He basically lives in his workshop. People deliver broken items, and Henry fixes them in exchange for food. If the locals are extra cheery, he'd get a tip or two. That's most of the time, but Henry is blinded by adamance to no end.
One day, the item delivered was way different from the others. It was way bigger, too. The length of a door and the width of a pillar. It was a giant log, but Henry had to extenuate.
"Do whatever you want with it. Use it for your fireplace. Literally anything. " Said Greg, Henry's neighbor.
"Are you sure? Winter is getting nippier by the day. Don't you want it for your furnace at home?"
"Don't sweat it. Darla and I are moving into our holiday house in Sydney. Or should I say 'migrating' if you know what I mean." Greg did a little nudge and wink action.
Henry followed with a strangled, awkward laugh.
"Oh speaking of which Scooter, our dog would need to be fed while we are gone," Jerry tossed Henry his house keys.
"Just make sure his bowl is full. And when you have the time you can walk him. He is friendly."
That's what they always say. But the truth always comes to nip them literally in the butt.
Henry wasn't having it, and Scooter's supposedly 'friendliness wasn't cutting it either.
"Bad dog! That was my favorite pair." Henry whines like a teenager. Scooter was chuffed with himself, wagging his tail madly. In his mouth was a piece of Henry's jeans.
"You lucky I'm a kind person. Others would have left you outside. In that bitter cold... you are so...exhausting, you know that."
Scooter dropped the denim piece like a toy.
The frustration enabled Henry dumps the dog food quickly into the bowl and leaves. Stopping to lock everything before biting back into the harsh snow and whistling winds.
Minutes were hours before Henry stood foot in front of his cottage. It was small, that's a fact, but it was home, and that was the important thing.
Stepping in, Henry waltzed to the kitchen. He was in his safe place again, and that's all that mattered. He even turned the volume up on his radio to lift the vibe even more. Filing through the cabinets, Henry snacked on some chips and brought the packet to the workshop.
The radio seemed to switch Henry to a more sparky definition. Tappy and noddy while he cut the outer layer of the log he was given. Sneaking back a chip or two, then smearing his hand on his apron. When he got the sketch done, he started chipping the eacses off.
By 10 p.m., Henry had made a blocky figure. If he looked at it more, the appearance of the figure morphed into many forms. That's when he called it in. Tomorrow, his mind would be fresh. Throwing the empty chip packet into the bin, Henry slanted onto his couch at the back of the workshop. Already asleep before his head hit the pillow.
What he woke up to, he wasn't expecting. The blocky figure was facing him closely. Very closely. If Henry even moved an inch forward, they would be nose to nose.
This definitely can not be some horror movie shit. Henry quickly got up and made his way to the bathroom. He rinsed off any worry or fear that had sunken in.
Henry regrets binge-watching all the Scream franchises in order.
Hooking his head around the corner, the figure stood unhinged. Henry breathed a sigh of relief. His anxiety still piked, and he never wanted to see Scooter so badly in his life.
It took 20 minutes, and Scooter was sniffing every inch of Henry's house. Setting the bowl down and dog food on the floor, Henry slowly slid down with them.
Henry wasn't a clingy person. He would have his moments where a pillow tended to stick by his side from time to time. But he wasn't clingy to a point where he needed closure, so he knew he wasn't the only person in the world. Today was different. He is scared of what he created and blames his fixation on watching horror movies. Scooter seemed to get the message and trotted back into the kitchen, sitting next to Henry. The man was thankful the dog didn't bite his shoe off on the journey here. Speak about friendly. The German shepherd was a spanking new version from yesterday.
Henry walked around the house ( minus the workshop) without worrying he would need to sew another pair of pants.
When it came to dinner time, Henry eats peacefully while Scooter ate his in comparison.
"Hey, buddy, want a piece?" Henry held a piece of meat out to the dog. Scooter gently accepted it, then went back to finishing his food.
Henry knew he couldn't avoid the workshop shop forever. It wasn't out of his nature to half-ass a job either. So when the dog went to bed. Henry bought the courage to carry on with his project.
The figure hasn't moved. Henry didn't either. His feet decided to plant themselves right at the door. He was stupid. He was honestly waiting for the thing to slowly twist its untwistable head directly at him.
"What am I doing," Henry said aloud. If the thing could reply, Henry imagined it would say 'stupidly standing.''
His imagination was right, of course (for once), and Henry's legs broke its enchanted stance. The night came and went while Henry worked. The figure grew more human aspects until Henry fell asleep at 4 a.m. the following day.
"... you are so much different. Flesh and warm." Said the wooden craft. It's limbs, click and clank to a sitting position.
"We look alike. At least," the craft ventured the workshop. Stopping to look at woodwork and then moving on to something else.
The dog marched in seconds later, quickly sniffing around for the new smell. When he found it, he charged into the wooden man.
"Hey, that tickles. Stop that." He laughs, but Scooter ignored, continuing to lick this new friend.
Henry woke up to the ramble. Dismissively asking the dog to stop reaping havic.
"Stop!" He shouted. Fully awake now.
"Do you realize what time it is..."
Then he saw him. The wooden myth he deemed not true.
"Scooter, come here."
The dog whined.
"Now!" Henry commanded. Scooter complied and stood next to Henry, leaving the wooden creature in Henry's angry wake.
"State your purpose."
"I was brought here."
"By who?"
"By you. But before was a different man. Just please, don't hurt me."
"You were that log."
"Yes."
Henry ran his fingers through his hair. He must be going crazy or this is really some fucked up dream. Him talking to wood. The one thing he interacts with every day is now talking back.
"I was other things before -"
Henry raised his hand.
"Please shut up. I need a minute... Maybe more. Don't follow. "
Like a zombie, Henry walked back to the safety of the kitchen. Maybe it was tiredness. Maybe it was insomnia. It could be anything, just hopefully not the absence of Greg. That is the last person Henry would have the pleasure of missing.
"Scooter. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I think it was the crazy talking. Right, buddy?"
Henry didn't hear the dogs scratching footfalls against the oak floor.
"Buddy?"
Apparently, Scooter didn't follow like Henry expected he would. That was the first sign Henry hadn't lost it. He was both relieved and terrified.
"Scooter, it didn't eat you. Did it?"
That was a stupid question, but he had to ask.
"I didn't eat him. I don't think I'm capable."
"I wasn't asking you." Ok, it wasn't a lurcid dream. But the thing had to talk.
"Please stop talking."
