Quarterwide - Flash Fiction - UPDATED WITH CRITIQUE

Harold lived in a salvaged, single-wide trailer on his mother’s property. All that was salvaged from the original structure amounted to a quarter-wide, mobile home. He needed just enough room for his bookshelves and his three-legged dog, Stumpy. Harold had no college education, and only finished high school. He was not educated, but he was wise, and no one ever said he was, or accused him of being, an ignorant man. Harold made a game of all this. He let, and often lead people to believe he was an ignorant bumpkin. He spoke slowly, plainly and matter-of-factly, never using ten-dollar words to express himself. He dressed in second hand clothes, cut his hair short himself, wore no rings or watch, and always had a yellow pencil or two clipped to the shirt pocket of his second-hand dress shirt, buttoned at the collar.

Harold had an extraordinary self-education, having read all kinds of books, including: literature, science, psychology and history. He had opinions on everything, and could back them up with facts and examples, but he kept most of this to himself, as his friends were simple folk – “salt of the earth”, as he would say.

Naming his dog, Stumpy, was expected of a man that lived in a tin house with a three-legged dog, and it was assumed that such a man was slow and backward…and so he named his dog Stumpy, when she lost her leg to an accident when she was a pup.

People tried to take advantage of Harold and his mother. Her property was worth a fortune, as her acreage bordered the most beautiful property owned by the country club. A developer offered her a great deal of money for her property, but she had no reason to sell. She was happy in her little house, surrounded by her large gardens that she and Harold tended, the greenhouse, and chicken coop. She had three wells on the property, all of them capable of delivering enough water for the whole town, and a stand of old-growth cedars towered over the back twenty acres of her land.

Representatives of the developer would stop Mrs. Mason at her mailbox at the head of the driveway and try to engage her in conversation, hoping to convince her to sell, but she ignored them, and reminded them she had no intention of selling. When the developers came to learn that Harold was her son, they approached him at the grocery store and tried to convince him that he should do all he could to get his mother to sell. Harold would just listen, nod his head once in a while, and then go about picking the best treats for his dog, and a little surprise for his mom. After two years of a number of attempts to buy The Widow Mason’s land, they gave up and looked elsewhere.

No one knew that Harold was an especially sentient being. Harold was finely tuned. He was extraordinarily sensitive as witnessed by his ability to perceive things that others could not see or did not notice. He could sense the feeling of security and contentment in the whole body of his dog when he stroked her back or rubbed her ears. He could do the same when he took his mother’s hand to help her up when she had been on her knees for hours in her garden. Harold could touch someone’s shoulder in the store when greeting a friend and know, immediately, how their mood was, and if they were under any kind of stress, ill, or in a fearful state.

Once a week, Harold would drive the family truck thirty miles South to visit his old friend, Alan, in the Veteran’s Home. After visiting his friend, he would go to the recreation room and take a chair by the window and sit looking out onto the flower garden and the scores of bird feeders. The same group of residents of the home would stop by to say hello. Three men came by one by one to sit with Harold for a few minutes. He greeted them, took their hand for a moment, and gave each of them a spiritual “examination”. He could tell by their skin texture, the color, the skin temperature, and the grip on his fingers how they were fairing. If he sensed something different or amiss, he would ask them how they were doing and say a few words, quietly, to each of them in turn.

Every Thursday, Harold would go to the market to play at his little charade. The wealthier folks used to gather near the back of the store to gossip, and when Harold approached them, they clammed up. He thought they were silly, and as he passed by, he would tip his hat or smile. If anyone said hello, he would turn to acknowledge them and nod his head. No one ever taunted Harold, as he was a big man, and no one wanted any trouble with him.

No one knew Harold’s touch unless they had deep feelings for him and if he felt the same way about them. Harold had laid hands on a dozen or so residents at the Veteran’s home, and all of them found themselves feeling better than they had ever felt in their life. All of them left the home within a few months of befriending Harold, cured of any ailments, pain or depression. No one knew Harold’s secret. He didn’t know it himself, but his mother knew, as Harold’s father had also had the touch.
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Here is the critique I received from Every Day Fiction:

Dear Thomas Pitre,

Thank you for your submission to Every Day Fiction. I regret to inform you that we are unable to use it at this time.

I really like the title and the concept of a "quarter-wide". That established the frugality and simplicity of Harold (and the tone of the piece) right off. The piece does an excellent job of developing Harold and introducing some potential conflict points about the land and his "powers". The problem is, none of the conflict ever gets played out, and the character development is all told instead of shown. The land issue becomes a non-issue. His power simply leads to people feeling better. And even Harold himself doesn't appear to have any problems, so we don't experience "man vs. himself", either. This made the story feel stagnant at worst, and like a first chapter at best. Take this wonderful setting and character and add tension, conflict, and resolution. Technical issues: this felt a bit off: "Harold had no college education, and only finished high school." If he had no college education, it stands to reason he finished high school without repetitive explanation. If you mean only JUST finished, eked by, that could be made more clear. I think "Naming his dog 'Stumpy' was expected..." would be more effective (punctuation-wise) than this: "Naming his dog, Stumpy, was expected..."
-- Joseph Kaufman

Some very nice writing here, and I loved the character of Harold. But I agree with Joseph's comments that we are "told" the story rather then being being allowed active participation in it. Lots of potential though, and perhaps the author can narrow the focus of the piece to Harold's sentience and healing powers: there's a whole story right there.
-- Carol Clark


Unfortunately due to the insanely massive amounts of submissions in our slush pile, we cannot reconsider your piece at this time.
We wish you good luck in placing the story elsewhere.

Sincerely,
All of us at Every Day Fiction
http://www.everydayfiction.com/pages/