The pie had potential, like all of her pies, but she would leave this earth before a single one of those pies ever reached it.
You see, Katie was a bit off. Everyone said so. You couldn't quite put a finger on exactly what was "wrong" with her, but everyone could see it.
If you said hello to her on the street, she would look slightly to your left and bounce on her tippy toes, smiling like the dickens, before she said your name. And Katie never forgot a name.
One day, Katie was traipsing down State Street in front of the Pink House. She stopped to look slightly to the left of the house and began to bounce on her tippy toes. Then she called out
"Rumpelstilskin!"
The old man who lived in the house, who had not been seen by anyone in town for four decades or longer, came out and said
Who goes there?
"It's me, Katie!"
The old man walked wearily over to Katie, shook her hand, and said
Do you have any pies with potential?
"I think so! I have lots of pies with potential!
Congratulations, this house is now yours
and he threw himself into the well out back.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's daily freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is potential pie.
A bit of background: my tiny hillbilly town has one famous house in it, The Pink House. I walked by that house at least twice a day every school day. But I never knew a single person who lived there, nor did I know anyone who had ever been in the house. I'd heard tales of a child who had drowned in the well out back, a girl, so I was a tiny bit afraid of the house, but mostly I just ignored it. Now it is spectacularly decorated for Halloween, and that's about it.
