Ley Wendavik and the 3 Little Fairies by Werley Nortreus - HTML preview

Part 2

Throughout this entire period, I wasn't truly in dire need of money, but I had to earn something. Naturally, I had to find a way to make some income. Thus, I had no alternative but to sell my paintings to clear my mind. On the day my parents discovered that the painting they had seen in the warehouse was up for sale, I wasn't at home. One afternoon, while I was out for a little walk around, one of my clients who had come to pick up a painting he had recommended didn't see me in the warehouse where I conducted my business, so he encountered my parents and asked for me. “Wendavik, are you inside?”

“Open up!”

“Open the door!” The client called out as he knocked on the door. After a few minutes, realizing I was not there, the client stepped away. And as he was leaving, he bumped into my father and mother, who were nearby.

“Good afternoon, sir!”

“We noticed you were knocking!” My father said to the client. “How can we assist you?” My mother also asked the client. “Hi! Good afternoon!”

“I'm looking for Wendavik!” The client responded. “Have you seen him?” He asked my parents.

“Who are you?” My mother inquired. “Why are you looking for my son?” My father also asked. “Oh, your son is a Painter, right?”

“Did you know that?” The client explained. “I came to pick up the painting he was drawing for me.”

“But I knocked on the door of his warehouse and didn't hear anything,” he added.

“Did you hear that, Hun?” My father remarked to my mother. “Our son is selling the paintings we always see in the warehouse!” He told my mother.

“Hun?”

“You know our son is a talented Painter, right?” My mother replied, both pondering the situation.

“When will your son return?” The client asked. “I paid him 50 bucks for my paintings.”

“Did you hear me? 50 bucks,” he added, somewhat irritated. “Calm down! Our son isn't here now; he might be out somewhere!”

“But when he returns, we'll inform him!" My father assured him. “If you agree, we can refund you the 50 bucks, understand?” My mother offered it to the client.

“Yes? Please?”

“Where is it? Where's my 50 bucks?” The client replied, extending his hand to receive it.

“Here's your money, sir.”

“We apologize for the misunderstanding, sir.”

“Have a great day!”

“Goodbye!” My mother told the clients and gave him 50 bucks. As my client took the 50 bucks, he held up the bill, admiring it glinting in the sunlight.

It was quite amusing to see how my client, an elderly white gentleman, picked up the money, glanced upwards, and erupted into laughter despite lacking any teeth in his mouth.

Part 3

Later that day, upon returning home, I overheard my parents conversing in the kitchen.

I cautiously opened the front door and crept up the stairs. Despite my carefulness, it appeared they heard the door and came to investigate.

Just as I was gently closing the door, I turned around to find them standing at the foot of the stairs, observing my every action. With no other choice, I greeted them with a smile, but that didn't seem sufficient.

It was evening.

“Father! Mother!”

“Hi guys! I'm back!”

“It's great to see you!” I said to them and smiled. “How have you both been?” I asked them. “Hey, son!”

“What’s going on with you?” My father responded. “We’re doing well, and you?”

“Where have you been?” My mother also replied and asked me. “I’m fine, thank you!”

“I was just out for a walk, okay?” I spoke. “I’m sorry for being late!”

“So sorry!” I reiterated.

“It’s true that at your age you can do as you please, but we were a little concerned about you,” my mother expressed. “I’m sorry for being late, but I’m okay.”

“Thank you?” I replied.

“Should I head to my room now?” I asked them. “Son, there is something your mother and I need to discuss with you, okay?” My father replied to me. “What is it?” I asked.

“Tell me! Please, tell me!” I spoke. “Your artworks?” My father inquired.

“My Painting?

“And?”

“What about them?” I replied.

“Can you tell us about your artworks or paintings?”

“What do you do with them?”

“Do you sell them?” my father questioned. “Why?”

“Is that important?” I replied.

“Well, your father and I had another person asking about you while you were away.”

“The elderly man got 50 dollars from me for a painting he claimed he commissioned you to draw,” my mother explained. “Oh! That old man!”

“Yes, I sell my paintings.”

“On this Town, many people are aware that I drew paintings for a living," I replied.

“Um, did you hear that?

“He’s an Artist?”

“Our son is an Artist!”

“How delightful that sounds,” my father told my mother. “At least he was honest with us,” my mother responded to my father. As my father and mother engaged in a discussion while I shared the complete truth regarding my paintings stored in the warehouse, I found myself wishing to be in my room already after a long and hectic day. “Alright, is that everything you guys wanted to discuss?”

“Is there anything else you wish to share with me before I head to my room?” I asked them.

“I believe I've mentioned all that I needed to,” My father responded to me.

“What about you, Hun?”

“Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?” My father said again, directing his question to my mother.

“No, everything is fine.”

“Thank you.”

“We needed more information regarding the paintings in the warehouse, right?”

“We did? So, what else?”

“That's all that matters from this point forward,” my mother stated. “Okay, do I need to leave now?”

“I'm heading to my room! I’m tired!” I informed them. “But what about dinner?”

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” My mother asked me. “I had some fruit.”

“I'm going upstairs, but I might return later for more food, alright?”

“Thanks, guys!”

“I love you both!” I exclaimed as I made my way upstairs to my room. “Did you catch that?” My father asked my mother. “Yes, my darling!” My mother replied. As I ascended to my room, my father and mother settled in the yard to continue their conversation.