"I just don't get the boss these days." Behind the mill, I heard two men talking. They wore matching white uniforms smeared with soot, while smoke seeped from the mouths on their young faces. I snuck up to where their shadows touched the earth and eavesdropped from behind a pole.
"He missed the deadline again."
"And he smacked me just yesterday. Said I left the ashtray full."
"Huh, if he didn't dog us like that, he wouldn't have anything else to do."
"Heh, he said all we do anyways is smoke cigarettes."
"I just don't get him."
"Boy, you said it."
There was the banging sound of a mallet. Word had it this mill was built by the skilled, but eccentric foreman. He'd since taken on two assistants to make furniture around the clock. But the men just idled their days away, breathing out an endless stream of white smoke.
"It must be you-know-what."
"Wouldn't be surprised."
"Ask him."
"You idiot. He'll do more than just box your ears if you do. I wouldn't complain even if he ran me through the sander alive."
"Ugh, you just can't win with him."
"Boy, I'll say."
And with that, they let out white sighs.
"It's seriously been a month since Fleur went missing? Huh, I guess she's not coming back. she probably finally had it with that barbarian. But I'm gonna miss how one look at her kisser and the boss' mood would do a 180."
That was as far as I overheard. Stealthily, I did an about-face and skirted the wall of the mill. From my neck now dangled a blue bell. The symbol of the mill. Today, I had come to be the boss' Fleur.
Approaching the window, a loud voice boomed from inside.
"I told you, it's just not possible! You're not making any sense, you dimwit!"
The sound of the receiver slamming down was coupled with wood being shaved. My ears stood on end and the trembles racked my body. The words 'run through the sander alive' danced in my head. No doubt it'd hurt like mad.
I imagined it, looking down at the blue bell. Does it hurt more than death? Not having experienced either, I didn't know, but dying probably hurt more. At that thought, the trembling stopped. It must've hurt Fleur a lot.
"I can't do this anymore!"
This time, a piece of furniture flew out the window. Things were taking a turn for the worse.
I couldn't control my shivers and the blue bell let out a ring. The boss turned his wrinkled brown face in my direction and scowled. I thought he'd look right through me with his muddy gray eyes. I didn't have the beautiful body of Fleur at all. I was terrified he'd say I wasn't his lovely Fleur and would run me through the sander right then and there.
He suddenly swung his hand high. The palm of his weathered, old hand was blistered. The skin, like bark. I was sure he'd strike me, but instead his hand came up to cup my face.
His rough and powerful hand stroked my head so softly.
"You scrawny little thing." His gruff voice was more like a groan. The way it trembled struck my heart.
Didn't he doubt me? Didn't he see right through me? Should I really let him continue stroking my head like this?
I was speechless as he took me in his arms effortlessly.
"Boys, get in here!" He yelled behind the mill.
"Quit your grumbling and get back to work! If you don't want me to wax your heads, then polish me some new wood! And step on it!"
Despite being yelled at, the two men had twinkles in their eyes.
"The boss' Fleur is back!"
They hollered, hands in the air. Unable to speak, the blue bell spoke for me with a trinkle. At that moment, I had won over her name.
I am Fleur. Fleur, with her blue bell. Petted by a hardheaded boss, I am a furniture maker's beloved daughter.
Blue Bell Fleur
"He missed the deadline again."
"And he smacked me just yesterday. Said I left the ashtray full."
"Huh, if he didn't dog us like that, he wouldn't have anything else to do."
"Heh, he said all we do anyways is smoke cigarettes."
"I just don't get him."
"Boy, you said it."
There was the banging sound of a mallet. Word had it this mill was built by the skilled, but eccentric foreman. He'd since taken on two assistants to make furniture around the clock. But the men just idled their days away, breathing out an endless stream of white smoke.
"It must be you-know-what."
"Wouldn't be surprised."
"Ask him."
"You idiot. He'll do more than just box your ears if you do. I wouldn't complain even if he ran me through the sander alive."
"Ugh, you just can't win with him."
"Boy, I'll say."
And with that, they let out white sighs.
"It's seriously been a month since Fleur went missing? Huh, I guess she's not coming back. she probably finally had it with that barbarian. But I'm gonna miss how one look at her kisser and the boss' mood would do a 180."
That was as far as I overheard. Stealthily, I did an about-face and skirted the wall of the mill. From my neck now dangled a blue bell. The symbol of the mill. Today, I had come to be the boss' Fleur.
Approaching the window, a loud voice boomed from inside.
"I told you, it's just not possible! You're not making any sense, you dimwit!"
The sound of the receiver slamming down was coupled with wood being shaved. My ears stood on end and the trembles racked my body. The words 'run through the sander alive' danced in my head. No doubt it'd hurt like mad.
I imagined it, looking down at the blue bell. Does it hurt more than death? Not having experienced either, I didn't know, but dying probably hurt more. At that thought, the trembling stopped. It must've hurt Fleur a lot.
"I can't do this anymore!"
This time, a piece of furniture flew out the window. Things were taking a turn for the worse.
I couldn't control my shivers and the blue bell let out a ring. The boss turned his wrinkled brown face in my direction and scowled. I thought he'd look right through me with his muddy gray eyes. I didn't have the beautiful body of Fleur at all. I was terrified he'd say I wasn't his lovely Fleur and would run me through the sander right then and there.
He suddenly swung his hand high. The palm of his weathered, old hand was blistered. The skin, like bark. I was sure he'd strike me, but instead his hand came up to cup my face.
His rough and powerful hand stroked my head so softly.
"You scrawny little thing." His gruff voice was more like a groan. The way it trembled struck my heart.
Didn't he doubt me? Didn't he see right through me? Should I really let him continue stroking my head like this?
I was speechless as he took me in his arms effortlessly.
"Boys, get in here!" He yelled behind the mill.
"Quit your grumbling and get back to work! If you don't want me to wax your heads, then polish me some new wood! And step on it!"
Despite being yelled at, the two men had twinkles in their eyes.
"The boss' Fleur is back!"
They hollered, hands in the air. Unable to speak, the blue bell spoke for me with a trinkle. At that moment, I had won over her name.
I am Fleur. Fleur, with her blue bell. Petted by a hardheaded boss, I am a furniture maker's beloved daughter.