Jillian Chantal

I am finished with my NaNoWriMo story and have started on a short story for an anthology. This is close to the beginning of the story. Since we’re writing to a picture prompt, we’re limited to 300 words.

Check out the other tales here

Patting the dashboard, Otto said, “Look there, old boy. A tree full of pears, ripe and ready to pick.” He shook his head. “Shame whoever owns it is letting them fall to the ground and rot. Let’s see if they’ll let me have a few.”

He knew he had a suitable box stowed in the bed. As a chef who liked to cook with fresh fruits and vegetables in season, he was always alert to opportunities to score some goodies for the hotel where he served as executive chef. “Poached pears, pear chutney, pear tarte Tatin, cobbler or even my famous braided raspberry and pear bread. It’s hard to choose which to do but I have to get permission to pick them first.”

Otto was sure people would think he was crazy talking to his truck, but since he’d lost his wife and child in an accident several years prior, he hadn’t found anyone to share his life and being silent all the time when he wasn’t at work had begun to wear on him.

He pulled into the dirt driveway of the old farmhouse and approached the door, dodging the chickens who seemed to be determined to trip him and make him fall on his face.

Before he could knock, an elderly lady, in an old house dress like his grandmother used to wear, stepped onto the porch. Hands on hips with the door open wide behind her, she glared at him. “Whatever you’re selling, I either already have, don’t need or just plain don’t want.”

“Actually, ma’am, I’m looking to buy—”

“Car’s not for sale. Yes, it’s an antique. Yes, I bought it new and yes, I know it’s a collectible. Still ain’t gonna sell it to you.”