My Friend, The Fence.
Title: My Friend, The Fence (1/2)
Author: gracheness
Fandom: Original fiction.
Pairing: If you look hard enough I guess there's subtext.
Rating: G
Summary: Charlene's best friend is a fence named Francine. This is a story of their friendship and the challenges they face because of it. Yes, this is a serious story. There is character development and slight twists and things. Part one for those with short attention spans!
Notes: It was inspired by this
My Friend, The Fence.
“Hello, my name is Charlene and I have a confession to make.”
Everyone waited with baited breath.
“My best friend is a fence,” she rushed out quickly. There, she had said it. As soon as it was out she felt as though she had an army of a thousand… ants? behind her. She was fearless, she was unstoppable, she was…
“Charlene, dinner.”
“Coming, mum.”
She sighed, she had played out that fantasy in her mind so many times but it hadn’t got any easier. She wished there was a club for people who felt the need to come clean about secrets they had kept inside. But alas, no. She was alone, well not entirely alone. Charlene always had Francine. Charlene and Francine had been friends ever since they met, back when Francine had been built. Francine was a magical talking fence, and a unique one at that. Charlene had her own theory that Francine was the reincarnation of a small boy that was buried in her garden in the late 13th century.
Charlene first knew of Francine when she had been sitting outside; sunning herself in her bikini and watching the builders build the new fence. She heard a small voice in the general vicinity of the fence. At first she thought that the builders were talking to her, but then realised the two builders were male. Despite the fact she was in a bikini, she didn’t want to appear too forward so she remained on her banana lounge. Her subtle glances were replaced with wide-eyed peering, looking for the hidden voice. The builders soon finished, quickly too for it was a long fence.
Charlene peered around to see if there were small, scheming children hiding on the other side of the fence. Although the new fence was supposed to sit a while before having pressure put on it, she placed her hands over the fence and jumped a little to see what was behind the fence. She was pleased to find that there was no grit dusting the top of the new fence. When she peered over, all she saw was her neighbours (in their sixties) skinny dipping in their pool again- a site she was subjected to often, but was no longer surprised by. “Erph! Get off me,” wailed a high pitched voice.
“What? Who are you?” Charlene asked.
“I’m Francine, your new fence.”
“Ha. Sure.” Charlene promptly walked into her house. Obviously whatever friend would lose interest and knock on her door eventually.
The next morning, on her way to school Charlene heard the voice again. “Hello! Let’s be friends, you can lean on me if you like.”
“Whoever you are, it’s very stupid of you to stay out there all night waiting for me.” She walked away too briskly to hear the reply.
When Charlene returned that day, she was astounded to see that the person intent on making her look like a fool was still there. She couldn’t possibly see how they’d gotten to her house before she had without her noticing. “Please believe me!” Francine cried out.
“Fine.” Charlene walked over to the fence. “Shall I sit?” she asked, in a rather sarcastic tone.
“Please do, you may lean on me if you like.” Francine’s voice had a certain quality to it that Charlene couldn’t place. It sounded serene and ethereal; almost soothing in a way. She could not believe she mistook it to be one of her friends. Charlene sat by Francine for hours. She was amazed at how much Francine knew. Francine regaled her with tales from her birth at the saw mill. Charlene was amazed that when a tree is cut down, that not only the tree dies, but the tree’s living conscious dies as well. The planks that are created from trees are a completely new being, and often share no similar qualities to the tree they once came from; unlike a mother and a child.
Francine was unlike any other fence; many were bitter- but she was not. Many fences were jealous and spiteful of trees and wanted them all to be cut down and made into fences. They would often plot and devise plans against the trees, from making them rot to turning the trees against each other- one by one. There was also fence purity, and wooden fences despised concrete fences, but not as much as hedge fences. The concrete fences refused to speak with wrought iron fences, but were more willing to live in peace with them. Francine was not like this at all, she was a lovely fence. Charlene did not want to meet any other fences, from what Francine had told her. The afternoon wore on, but Charlene did not notice. Eventually she had to go inside and finish her homework. She said she would visit Francine tomorrow. And so began their friendship. Francine was wise, but also young and although she knew all about fences and trees, she knew little of humans. Francine was a very willing listener and Charlene told her all about her life.
“Dinner!” Charlene’s mother so rudely reminded her, rupturing her bubble of nostalgia. Charlene bounded out of her room, not wanting her dinner to get cold (or be called again). Her parents were interested in Charlene’s new drawing obsession. They wanted to see what she had done, considering she spent hours sitting by the fence every day. Obviously, this was Charlene’s cover, because her parents would think it odd if she was found sitting outside, conversing with a fence. The old people next door were senile anyway, and too concerned with skinny dipping to be of any worry to her. She was also aware of the possibility that she was the only person who could hear Francine- an issue she didn’t particularly want to bring up with her.
Her friendship with Francine was lengthy, sound and never had the potential to be challenged. Francine relied on Charlene as her sole human contact. Francine did not like the adjoining fence much (Charlene couldn’t hear it anyway); or any other fence for that matter. The trees were so prejudiced against fences that none would talk to her. Francine was taking up a lot of Charlene’s time; time away from her human friends.
Charlene was in two minds what to do about Francine. She wanted to tell her friends there was someone else in her life, but she also didn’t want to betray Francine’s wish- that being that no one else was to know about her. She spent so much time with Francine it was eating into time with her human friends. Some of her friends assumed she had a boyfriend (some a girlfriend) or that she had a strange home life. They thought she was required to peel potatoes for at least an hour a day and meticulously peel hair off corn every other day. Her friends didn’t know her too well. Francine didn’t know what to do; she loved Francine dearly, but also wanted to get a chance to be with her human friends more. Her friendship group at school was changing and evolving and she was beginning to feel out of the loop.
Winter was coming up and it was getting cold sitting out with Francine after school. Although she enjoyed Francine’s company and listening to Francine’s views on things, she didn’t enjoy sitting out in the cold. Francine was warm at heart, but didn’t offer much physical warmth to Charlene. The seasons passed into winter and the time Charlene spent with Francine was starting to waver. Charlene much preferred to sit inside with her family and drink soup then to weather the elements alongside Francine.
Her faith in her own friendship abilities took a nosedive when she invited some of her human friends to watch movies one night. She filled her lounge room with cushions, pillows and blankets and they all enjoyed the warmth and the company. Her friend’s speculations on her potato peeling were shattered when they found out just how normal Charlene and her family really were. All through the night, Charlene could see Francine in the wind, and in the early hours surrounded by grass laced with frost. Although Francine did not have a face, Charlene could feel the longing in that fence.
Onwards to part two
Author: gracheness
Fandom: Original fiction.
Pairing: If you look hard enough I guess there's subtext.
Rating: G
Summary: Charlene's best friend is a fence named Francine. This is a story of their friendship and the challenges they face because of it. Yes, this is a serious story. There is character development and slight twists and things. Part one for those with short attention spans!
Notes: It was inspired by this
My Friend, The Fence.
“Hello, my name is Charlene and I have a confession to make.”
Everyone waited with baited breath.
“My best friend is a fence,” she rushed out quickly. There, she had said it. As soon as it was out she felt as though she had an army of a thousand… ants? behind her. She was fearless, she was unstoppable, she was…
“Charlene, dinner.”
“Coming, mum.”
She sighed, she had played out that fantasy in her mind so many times but it hadn’t got any easier. She wished there was a club for people who felt the need to come clean about secrets they had kept inside. But alas, no. She was alone, well not entirely alone. Charlene always had Francine. Charlene and Francine had been friends ever since they met, back when Francine had been built. Francine was a magical talking fence, and a unique one at that. Charlene had her own theory that Francine was the reincarnation of a small boy that was buried in her garden in the late 13th century.
Charlene first knew of Francine when she had been sitting outside; sunning herself in her bikini and watching the builders build the new fence. She heard a small voice in the general vicinity of the fence. At first she thought that the builders were talking to her, but then realised the two builders were male. Despite the fact she was in a bikini, she didn’t want to appear too forward so she remained on her banana lounge. Her subtle glances were replaced with wide-eyed peering, looking for the hidden voice. The builders soon finished, quickly too for it was a long fence.
Charlene peered around to see if there were small, scheming children hiding on the other side of the fence. Although the new fence was supposed to sit a while before having pressure put on it, she placed her hands over the fence and jumped a little to see what was behind the fence. She was pleased to find that there was no grit dusting the top of the new fence. When she peered over, all she saw was her neighbours (in their sixties) skinny dipping in their pool again- a site she was subjected to often, but was no longer surprised by. “Erph! Get off me,” wailed a high pitched voice.
“What? Who are you?” Charlene asked.
“I’m Francine, your new fence.”
“Ha. Sure.” Charlene promptly walked into her house. Obviously whatever friend would lose interest and knock on her door eventually.
The next morning, on her way to school Charlene heard the voice again. “Hello! Let’s be friends, you can lean on me if you like.”
“Whoever you are, it’s very stupid of you to stay out there all night waiting for me.” She walked away too briskly to hear the reply.
When Charlene returned that day, she was astounded to see that the person intent on making her look like a fool was still there. She couldn’t possibly see how they’d gotten to her house before she had without her noticing. “Please believe me!” Francine cried out.
“Fine.” Charlene walked over to the fence. “Shall I sit?” she asked, in a rather sarcastic tone.
“Please do, you may lean on me if you like.” Francine’s voice had a certain quality to it that Charlene couldn’t place. It sounded serene and ethereal; almost soothing in a way. She could not believe she mistook it to be one of her friends. Charlene sat by Francine for hours. She was amazed at how much Francine knew. Francine regaled her with tales from her birth at the saw mill. Charlene was amazed that when a tree is cut down, that not only the tree dies, but the tree’s living conscious dies as well. The planks that are created from trees are a completely new being, and often share no similar qualities to the tree they once came from; unlike a mother and a child.
Francine was unlike any other fence; many were bitter- but she was not. Many fences were jealous and spiteful of trees and wanted them all to be cut down and made into fences. They would often plot and devise plans against the trees, from making them rot to turning the trees against each other- one by one. There was also fence purity, and wooden fences despised concrete fences, but not as much as hedge fences. The concrete fences refused to speak with wrought iron fences, but were more willing to live in peace with them. Francine was not like this at all, she was a lovely fence. Charlene did not want to meet any other fences, from what Francine had told her. The afternoon wore on, but Charlene did not notice. Eventually she had to go inside and finish her homework. She said she would visit Francine tomorrow. And so began their friendship. Francine was wise, but also young and although she knew all about fences and trees, she knew little of humans. Francine was a very willing listener and Charlene told her all about her life.
“Dinner!” Charlene’s mother so rudely reminded her, rupturing her bubble of nostalgia. Charlene bounded out of her room, not wanting her dinner to get cold (or be called again). Her parents were interested in Charlene’s new drawing obsession. They wanted to see what she had done, considering she spent hours sitting by the fence every day. Obviously, this was Charlene’s cover, because her parents would think it odd if she was found sitting outside, conversing with a fence. The old people next door were senile anyway, and too concerned with skinny dipping to be of any worry to her. She was also aware of the possibility that she was the only person who could hear Francine- an issue she didn’t particularly want to bring up with her.
Her friendship with Francine was lengthy, sound and never had the potential to be challenged. Francine relied on Charlene as her sole human contact. Francine did not like the adjoining fence much (Charlene couldn’t hear it anyway); or any other fence for that matter. The trees were so prejudiced against fences that none would talk to her. Francine was taking up a lot of Charlene’s time; time away from her human friends.
Charlene was in two minds what to do about Francine. She wanted to tell her friends there was someone else in her life, but she also didn’t want to betray Francine’s wish- that being that no one else was to know about her. She spent so much time with Francine it was eating into time with her human friends. Some of her friends assumed she had a boyfriend (some a girlfriend) or that she had a strange home life. They thought she was required to peel potatoes for at least an hour a day and meticulously peel hair off corn every other day. Her friends didn’t know her too well. Francine didn’t know what to do; she loved Francine dearly, but also wanted to get a chance to be with her human friends more. Her friendship group at school was changing and evolving and she was beginning to feel out of the loop.
Winter was coming up and it was getting cold sitting out with Francine after school. Although she enjoyed Francine’s company and listening to Francine’s views on things, she didn’t enjoy sitting out in the cold. Francine was warm at heart, but didn’t offer much physical warmth to Charlene. The seasons passed into winter and the time Charlene spent with Francine was starting to waver. Charlene much preferred to sit inside with her family and drink soup then to weather the elements alongside Francine.
Her faith in her own friendship abilities took a nosedive when she invited some of her human friends to watch movies one night. She filled her lounge room with cushions, pillows and blankets and they all enjoyed the warmth and the company. Her friend’s speculations on her potato peeling were shattered when they found out just how normal Charlene and her family really were. All through the night, Charlene could see Francine in the wind, and in the early hours surrounded by grass laced with frost. Although Francine did not have a face, Charlene could feel the longing in that fence.
Onwards to part two