My Almost Finished Short Story

Here is my story.  The only thing I am missing is a TITLE.  That is the most important thing of all.  If anybody has any ideas please let me know.  I would also like to hear your opinions if you think anything should be changed. Enjoy!:)

 Palm trees waved in the wind, as if they were beckoning to passing strangers.  They were placed at the entrance of the small town.  Breaking off from the main road, several subdivisions led to family cul-de-sacs.  The houses stood peacefully in a half-circle.  All of them were actually peaceful, except for one.  That house belonged to Mr. Selma, the manager of a grocery store.  He lived with his wife, Mrs. Selma, his 15 year old son, Bretton, and his six year old twins, Alicia and Alex.  

“Bretton! It is time to wash your hands for dinner.”  Mrs. Selma shouted up the stairs.  Bretton heaved a sigh and slammed his book shut.  He ran his hand through his thick brown hair, rolled off his bed and headed toward his bathroom.  As he was washing his hands his twin siblings came bounding into the bathroom, laughing and giggling.  They bumped into Bretton and instantly fell quiet. 

“Cut it out, guys. You made me get water all over my shirt.”  Bretton furiously retorted.  Alicia and Alex shrunk back in fear. 

“We’re sorry.” They answered in unison.  He looked at them in disgust and walked out of the room and started trudging down the stairs.  He could hear the twins laughing again.  He quickly glanced at his mom, who was finishing making dinner and plopped down into his chair with a heavy sigh.  His mom carried to the table, steamed vegetables, meatloaf, and baked potatoes. 

“Alex and Alicia! Time for dinner.”  Mrs. Selma called up the stairs.  Thumps and giggles told the whole world when the twins arrived.  Bretton glared at them and shoved a bite of food into his mouth. 

“Uggh!  What is this?  I’m not eating it.  It tastes horrible.”  Bretton choked on his meatloaf.  He dropped his fork on his plate and pushed it away, with a horrible expression spreading like a virus on his face. 

“Bretton!  It is meatloaf.  Please stop making such a fuss about it.  The twins are going to follow your example.”  Mrs. Selma added in a low voice, glancing at the twins. 

“Mommy, what is this?”  the twins questioned.  Mrs. Selma sighed, pulled out a chair and sat down putting her head in her hands.  She tried to block out the twins and Bretton arguing.  Suddenly, everybody fell quiet when they heard the garage door open. 

“Daddy’s home!” the twins excitedly shouted.  The table shook and chairs toppled as Alicia and Alex raced to give their father a hug.  Bretton sighed in exasperation, while his mother went around picking up napkins, silverware, and chairs the twins had scattered in their haste.  Mr. Selma clomped through the door with Alex and Alicia holding onto him. 

“OK.  It’s time to get off, you goofs.”  Mr. Selma commanded.  Alicia and Alex ran to the table while Mr. Selma took off his tie and tossed it on the back of a chair. 

“Well, how are you guys doing?”  Mr. Selma asked Bretton and Mrs. Selma.

“Fine.” Bretton cut short.  He stood up quickly almost knocking down his chair. “I’ve got to finish my leftover school.” Bretton pushed his chair in and ran up the stairs.  Up in his room, he opened the book that he had been reading.  He was reading, but not paying attention instead he was listening to what was going on downstairs.  He could hear the twins chatting away their day to their father.  Occasionally he could hear his father and mother exchanging a word every once in a while.  Thoughts were running through his head, when they were rudely interrupted by Alex bursting into his room.

“Alex, get out right now!”  Bretton roared at the little boy. 

“I was wondering if you would like to play a game with me.”  Alex asked not really noticing that he just got yelled at.

“No.  I don’t have time.  I need to finish my school.  Now, get out, before I get Dad.” Bretton threatened.  Slowly, Alex walked out of the room.  Sighing, Bretton went back to his book.  He quickly finished the chapter.  He sat up when he heard heavy footsteps in the hall. 

“Time for lights out.”  That was one of Bretton’s least favorite sentences in the whole world. 

“I just finished school.  I don’t get any free time.”  Bretton grumbled under his breath. 

“Bretton, lights go out now!” 

“I wish I didn’t live here.”  Bretton complained.  “All of my friends get to stay up late.” He hopped out of bed and turned the light off.  He slowly made his way back to his bed and lay down.  He stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

Bretton groaned and rolled over.  He pulled the blankets over his head.  Something sharp poked out of the mattress he was sleeping on.  Cracking his eyes open he examined the bed.  He could barely move underneath the weight of his blankets.  Hmm, he thought, Mom must have put more blankets on.  He pulled out a feather from the mattress. 

“What is a feather doing in my bed?”  Bretton asked, now more awake. 

“To answer your question, young sir, you have a feather in your bed to make it so you are sleeping on a cushion instead of the wood,” a strange voice said from the corner of the room.  Startled, Bretton sat straight up.  He noticed that he was not in his own bed, nor in his own bedroom.  Peering around the curtains that hung around the bed he saw the figure who had talked.  The speaker had short brown hair, an apron, and intense eyes.  

“What am I doing here?  Did you steal me from my bed while I slept?”  Bretton asked, while getting increasingly worried.

“You know exactly why you are here.  In fact, you asked to come here,” the character answered.

“What!  I would never ask to come here.  You’re insane.  I would never ask to come to a place where there are FEATHERS in my bed!!”  Bretton shouted. 

“Well, you don’t have much time to waste.  Breakfast is almost over.  Your clothes are on the chair.  I assume you will be able to find your way to the kitchen to eat your food.  I will be waiting for you.”  And with that the man walked out of the room.  

Bretton threw off his blankets and got off the high bed.  The moment Bretton’s feet touched the ground he yelped out in surprise.  The floor was ice cold.  Shivering, he got his clothes on.  Muttering to himself he opened the gigantic door and stepped out.  Looking both ways into the hallway, he saw endless doors, curtains and deer heads but no people.  The only thing he could hear was the padding of his feet as he peeked into random rooms.  One caught his eyes.  Pushing the doors open he saw such royalty, he never imagined was possible.  One rug swallowed the floor in numerous colors.  Hanging from the ceiling was a massive glass chandelier. Bretton stood still in awe. 

“Ahem.” A familiar voice rang through the quiet.  Bretton whirled around in his spot, heart thumping wildly.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that is was just the person who was in the bedroom.

“This is not the kitchen. I thought I told you to go to the kitchen.”

“Well, you did, but…” Bretton hesitated. 

“To get to the kitchen,” the small man started, “you have to go down this hall and up a couple staircases.  This time I hope I will see you there.” And with that the little man left. Quickly, Bretton ran after him, but when he came to the hall he could see nobody.  Looking behind him nervously he shut the massive doors and started walking down the hall again.  At the end of the seemingly perpetual hall there was a staircase.  Sighing, he sat down on the bottom step and stared straight up to the very top of the staircase.  His stomach growled.  Urged on by his hunger he trudged up the stairs.  Bretton wiped the sweat from his brow, when he finally reached the top of the stairs.  Looking down Bretton forced himself to keep in whatever remains of supper he had left in his stomach.  Turning around he yelped in surprise.  Sitting on a little chair was the mysterious man.  The little man sat watching Bretton’s every move, without blinking.  Slowly, he lifted his arm and pointed to his left.  Nodding his thanks Bretton headed the suggested direction.  When he looked back the man was gone.  Running with anticipation and fear, he nearly missed the kitchen.  Skidding to a stop he peeked into the almost abandoned kitchen.

Sitting at the table, with a bowl placed in front of him sat the man.  He looked up as Bretton entered the empty room.  Nothing implied that it was a kitchen.  In the center of the room there was a table, with only two chairs.  There was no stove, oven, fridge, or even a microwave. 

 Cautiously, Bretton edged toward the table.  The man pushed the bowl toward Bretton.  When Bretton sat down, the chair groaned in protest.  Looking a little unsteady, Bretton stared at the unappetizing grub in his bowl.  He grimaced and remembered the wonderful meatloaf that he had chosen not to eat the other night.  Instantly, he regretted not eating it.  Taking up his spoon he managed to eat several bites, the little man watching him the whole time.  He nearly choked on it.  The food seemed to clump all together right as he swallowed.  He bounced up from the table and searched the cupboards for a glass.  The cup was cracked in several spots and looked as if it had not been washed in a very long time.  He looked around for a sink, but all he saw was a pump.  Pumping wildly, he finally managed to get several drops of water into the bottom of the cup.  Quickly, he was able to swallow some of the water before it trickled out the bottom of the cup and down his arm. 

“Mm. Thanks for the food. What do you do around here?” Bretton asked. 

“Well, there is cleaning, organizing, making food.  In general, work.” The little man finished with a little smile on his face.  

Bretton looked around him with a sad look on his face.  Oh man, what did I get myself into? He wondered.  Bretton stood up and thanked the man for the food, and quickly left. 

Bretton stood in the doorway of the room that he had awakened in.  Not wanting to work at all he lay down on the floor and stared at the ceiling.  After several minutes he managed to find animals, in the pattern of the cracks of the ceiling.  Getting up off the floor, he walked over to the massive window.  Pulling his sleeve down over his hand, he tried to rub some of the dirt and grime off the glass so he could actually look out.  Once he noticed that his effort was worthless, he decided that he could at least clean up the room.  Anything would be better than this relentless boredom!  He picked up the clothes he had tossed on the floor, along with quite a few feathers, and straightened up the massive bed.

   Looking around the spotless room, he found to his satisfaction that he actually felt good after working.   After everything was cleaned up, he ventured into the hall again.  Walking into various rooms, he made up his mind that if he was going to be stuck here he might as well be helpful.  Thinking about it almost made him smile.  He would surprise that little goblin of a man!   

After going through almost every room in the hallway, he decided which one he was going to work on. 

It was a small room with two windows.  There was a couch, rug, bookshelves, and a closet.  He rummaged around in the closet to see if there was any Windex® cleaner.  Soon after rummaging through the closet, he came to the conclusion that there wasn’t even a vacuum.  Several things he did find were a broom, a filthy rag, and a long sturdy stick.  Picking up the stick, he turned around and started heading back into the main part of the room.  As he was turning the stick, he heard a solid, thwack, as it whacked something.  Looking to see what the stick had hit, he found the little man sitting on the floor rocking back and forth holding his forehead. 

“Oh!” Bretton exclaimed. “If you are alright could I ask you a question?”  The man looked at him through a swollen eye.  Bretton took that as a yes.

“Number one, why do you keep on following me and why do you pop up everywhere?”

“Whoa.  You said one.  That was two questions.”

Completely ignoring him Bretton went on, “Number two, how do you clean this place?” his voice rising with his short temper. 

“The stick is to beat the carpet.  The rag is for the windows.  And the broom is to sweep the floor.”

Bretton looked at the “cleaning” utensils that were in his hands.  Shaking his head in disbelief, he managed to mutter a quiet “thank you” and stalked past the man.  

Standing in the middle of the room, he decided what to start cleaning first.  He grabbed the little cloth and started rubbing the window vigorously.  He became annoyed that it was not getting clean.  Suddenly urged by a thought he ran all the way to the kitchen.  After wetting the rag he ran back to the tiny room.  Scrubbing hard he was able to make a little clear spot.  Smiling at his success, he went back to the kitchen and filled a bucket with water.  When he finally staggered into the room, he nearly dropped the bucket in exhaustion.  

The day went by with hard work and a couple breaks to eat.  Bretton crawled into the huge bed and heaved a deep sigh.  For one of the first times in his life he had a good feeling.  Thinking about his family made him feel lonely.  He regretted the way he had spoken to his parents and siblings, and thought about the ways he could help around his house.  If only he could get back home, somehow.  Instantly he knew that there was no place like home.  He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

“Bretton! Get up! It’s time to eat breakfast! Hurry and get up! Mama is making pancakes!”

Bretton found himself in his bed, at his own house, with his own twin siblings bouncing on him. 

“Ok, ok!  I’m getting up!” Bretton happily exclaimed.  Bouncing out of his bed he grabbed the twins before they ran out of the room.  He gave them each a hug and dared that he could get his clothes on faster than them. Squealing, they ran out of the room.  Happy to be home he threw on his clothes and ran out his door.  He stumbled as he found both of the twins sitting outside his door waiting for him.  Grinning he made his way down the stairs, with the twins on his heels.  

As he was eating his pancakes, he thought back to the place where he had been and immediately was grateful to be eating and living in his own home.  Bretton knew where he belonged -- and couldn’t wait to show it.