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The Greenhouse

First published by Blurb © 2016

Copyright © 2016 by Steven Bowman and Katie Christy All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Steven Bowman and Katie Christy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy.

Find out more at

The Greenhouse is for Marie Olive Christy, resting peacefully in Heaven.






Chapter One


Chapter Two


Chapter Three


Chapter Four


Chapter Five


Chapter Six


Chapter Seven


Chapter Eight


Chapter Nine




A Special Thanks


Book Description


Self-Publishing Date



The Greenhouse is a book about Mr. Pryce and his life in London, England. My cousin, Katie Christy, inspired me to write The Greenhouse.

The subject of The Greenhouse was because there are many specific factors that I have learned from the different parts of the plants and their growth patterns.

The Greenhouse was written solely by me but was also an inspiration by my cousin. London, England, in the Summer of 1950, is the setting for The Greenhouse.

I learned a lot from the different languages and cultures of the friends, families, and people in Mr. Pryce’s life.

Many insights have to be acknowledged by the many characters in this book, like how Mr. Pryce allowed many people into his property.

Another insight may be that you could learn from the distinct characters, languages, and cultures.

Throughout the book, differences in how many of the people inherited Mr. Pryce, his lawn, and his greenhouse.

My acknowledgments go out to my cousin, Katie Christy, friends, readers, and family. I hope to do more writing in the future!



I want to thank my cousin, Katie Christy, for inspiring this 2016

novelette. She is my inspiration, and for that, I love her.

She is the most beautiful woman in my life. She will be like this for my entire life. There was a moment when I seemed to start my unleashed world of being a novelist in this writing world.

Katie Christy, you are the most meaningful person coming to my writings, and I will always think of you whenever I become most famous. Thank you, Katie Christy!


Chapter One

Earlyinthesummerof1950,Mr.PrycelivedinLondon, England. When he was settling into his greenhouse, a boy named Forrester Cahill entered.

Forrester was short, chubby, pale, and had lots of freckles, and his hair was short but reddish. He asked Mr. Pryce if he would open the greenhouse.

When he told him it would be opening soon, Forrester was eight and had been to Mr. Pryce’s greenhouse since he was five.

Mr. Pryce opened his greenhouse, and they went in. Forrester was carrying a medium-sized plant, Gladiolus, and he placed it into a hole about a foot deep in the ground.

Mr. Pryce taught Forrester how to water plants and give them pure sunlight. He liked how Mr. Pryce taught him about plants and their growth patterns.

Once Forrester finished, he went off in the distance and came with a friend. Now, this friend was a girl, the age of twelve, and she was beautiful.

Poppy Reed was her name, and she knew nothing about this greenhouse. Poppy is mid-sized, and she is Mediterranean. She had light blonde hair.

Now, she wanted to become a part of this greenhouse. Poppy asked Mr. Pryce if she could go into his greenhouse, so he let 1


her in. Mr. Pryce was forty-four.

He was skinny but muscular and was English with his glaucoma, could feel his way through the greenhouse, and had white hair.

Poppy came in and out of Mr. Pryce’s greenhouse with dirt on her arms. It made Mr. Pryce growl angrily toward her.

She noticed that it did and stopped. Later in the day, and came along in the afternoon. Forrester and Poppy were hungry from planting throughout the morning.

Mr. Pryce had nothing to give them. Poppy came up with the idea of calling her mother Viola, so she did so.

Viola is thirty-one, muscular, and she is Mediterranean. She has strawberry-blonde hair. After a while, Viola came with their food and stayed.

Mr. Pryce asked, “Who is there?” And Viola answered, “Hello, sir. My name is Viola Reed. I am Poppy’s mother.”

Mr. Pryce tried saying something but had nothing to say in response because he could not see Viola.

“Good God!” yelled Forrester. “What is it, deary?” Viola answered. Forrester pointed to the animal-shaped hole in the ground and panicked in astonishment.

Viola went over to Forrester, who was stressed, and tried to calm him down while she sang a lullaby called Hushing the Little One. That worked for Forrester.

Poppy, by then, wanted to help, but Viola shoved her aside and stopped her in her tracks. She questions her mother, but Viola refuses her child. Forrester then was calmer.

Slowly, he walked from the area to tell Mr. Pryce what was happening, and he finally understood. Mr. Pryce, at the time, was over in his bedroom and did not want to be bothered.

Mr. Pryce began by scratching the backside of his head and 2


yelled, “Why are you bothering me, Master?!”

Forrester wanted to cry but did not. So, Forrester softly answered back, “There is an animal-shaped hole in your greenhouse, sir.”

Mr. Pryce finally understood. By Forrester’s hand, he led him to the place. Mr. Pryce was well-known about the area and knew the places where the animals dug.

Mr. Pryce told them that the animal was a good rabbit named Fluffleton. They noticed it was a rabbit too, and they all were thankful for it.

Just as they all relaxed after the whole thing, they all went into Mr. Pryce’s house, and Mr. Pryce began talking about wartime.

“This is a war called the War of English and French,” Mr.

Pryce said. “This war was between England and France.”

Mr. Pryce’s story told Forrester and Poppy all he knew about the war. Mr. Pryce continued and spat out fast facts about it.

“Like there is a French soldier named Sébastien Barnabé Fréchette, and he is a First Sergeant, as the French call it, premier sergent.”

“Another fast fact, there is another French general named Aurélien Léonard Dupéré, as the French call it, général.”

Poppy was surprised that Mr. Pryce had to speak about these facts, and Mr. Pryce himself was surprised, too.

Forrester and Poppy were excited about going off tomorrow and finding some new friends. So they all sat by the fireplace where it rained until dawn and got warmed up by its glow.

As the day ended, they all sat there by the fire and told some fascinating stories of what it is like to learn about gardening and other gardening techniques.

Like the kids remember telling them ever told before. As Forrester recalled, “It is like this,” he said. “Good things come 3


from planting the seed firmly into the ground.”

“Firmly?” Mr. Pryce replied as he questioned Forrester.

“What do you mean, Master?” “Like this, I will show you,” replies Forrester. “Let me give you a demonstration.”

Then Forrester grabbed pieces of blank sheets of paper and began drawing the seeds firmly into the ground.

“I see, Master,” says Mr. Pryce. “Is that all?” he once again questioned Forrester. “Now you get it,” Forrester replied. “If you would close your eyes and imagine this diorama.”

Poppy wanted to draw too. So she drew butterflies. “Do you like my drawings,” she questioned. “This one or that one?”

“I like them both, indeed,” Mr. Pryce replied. Thus, Poppy was pleased with his response. The day is coming to an end.

Mr. Pryce told everyone to go to their homes.

After a while, after everyone went home, Mr. Pryce felt his way to his bedroom and lay in his bed to go to sleep.

The morning came as Mr. Pryce awoke from a deep slumber, then woke up to an alarm. “What is that noise?!” Mr. Pryce yelled. “Who is there?”

But there was no noise, and Mr. Pryce thought he was crazy.

He had a scary look on his face. It turned his skin a white-pale color.

“Seriously,” Mr. Pryce said. “You better not be pranking me, whoever you are?!” Nothing appeared to be there, and the room was silent.

Mr. Pryce got out of bed and sat by his bedside, wondering what that noise he heard. “No,” he said. “That is crazy. I heard that noise.”


Chapter Two

Mr. PrycegotouthisBible,arandompage,and prayed to God. “Holy Spirit, let there not be anything, nor whatever it is.”

Meanwhile, after the prayer, Mr. Pryce got up from bed and feels to his kitchen to get breakfast. Now, he got a knock on his doorstep and wondered who it was.

“Who is it?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Whoever it is, you are behind armed at the door.” Shaken and frightened, Mr. Pryce opened the door, and a man was with his children.

“Hello?” Mr. Pryce questioned. “And whom may you be?”

The man spoke with his accent. “Hola, señor. Me llamo Jesús Álvarez. Y este es mi hijo, Rubén Jesús Álvarez, y mi hija, María Belén Noemí Álvarez.”

Mr. Pryce thought the man was crazy, and as he went to shut his door, the man’s son stopped him. “Sir,” the boy said, “my name is Rubén, and this is my dada and big sissy.”

“Hello, Master,” Mr. Pryce answered the boy. “And my name is Mr. Pryce.” The boy told his father that the man was Mr.

Pryce, and the father understood.

“Good morning,” said the man. “It is so nice to meet you.”

The man pulled his arm out to shake hands with Mr. Pryce, and they did so.



“My name is Jesús,” said the man. “I hope you will like my family because we are new neighbors.”

Then Jesús left with his children. And then Rubén comes back a few minutes afterward to get to know his new neighbor.

“Hello, good sir,” said Rubén. “I am Rubén, and I am seven.”

“Nice to know, I guess?” was Mr. Pryce’s reply. “What are you doing back here, Master?”

Rubén went into Mr. Pryce’s bedroom rapidly. Mr. Pryce grew angry and yelled at Rubén. “What are you doing in my bedroom?!” Rubén hid in fearfulness of Mr. Pryce.

“It is okay, Master.” Mr. Pryce said. “Why do not you come out?” Rubén ran out of Mr. Pryce’s room and out the door.

That left Mr. Pryce in confusion.

“That was weird,” Mr. Pryce said. “What a strange little kid.”

Then he went into his greenhouse, where Mr. Pryce found a guest.

“Good evening, sir. Lovely day, isn’t it?” “What the…?” Mr.

Pryce replied so astonishingly. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

It is Forrester. He then hurried to his feet and perked a smile.

“It is me, Forrester. Do you remember me? I have been your neighbor since I was a baby.”

Forrester went to Mr. Pryce, let him feel his face, and responded, “Ah, yes. It is you, Forrester Cahill.” “Yes,” replies Forrester, “remember me?”

Then Forrester left and came with Rubén. “Hello, sir,” said Rubén. “It is me, Rubén, remember? You made me hide in fearfulness from you yelling at me.”

“What?” questioned Forrester, “I thought you were new to the neighborhood?” “I am,” said Rubén. “I moved here not that long ago.”



“Do not you have any other siblings?” Forrester questioned.

“Like a brother or sister?” “Yes, one,” said Rubén. “Her name is María Belén, and she is ten.”

“And you are… …how old?” Forrester questioned. “Seven,”

answered Rubén. “I am my own sister’s little brother.”

Rubén was seven, his hair was black, and he was muscular and Hispanic. “Are you like Spanish?” Forrester questioned.

“Speak your main language, please.”

“Sí, amable señor,” answered Rubén, “y soy de Alcorcón, España.” “What did you say?” Forrester questioned. “Tell me in English, please.”

“Yes, kind sir,” answered Rubén, “and I am from Alcorcón, Spain.” “Okay,” said Forrester. “Well, that is cool!”

“It is?” questioned Rubén. “I have never heard of that one before. Really.” They went into the greenhouse together, united as best friends.

Mr. Pryce felt his way into the greenhouse and went in. And he got a random seed from the shelf because of his feelings and tried to feel his way to Rubén to give it to him.

“What is this?” questioned Rubén. “Why are you giving this to me?” “Here,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Take this as a present of my gratitude for welcoming new guests.”

“Gracias, amable señor,” said Rubén, “tienes mi sincera gratitud. Le bendigo, señor.” As Mr. Pryce feels back outside the greenhouse, Rubén planted the seed.

Forrester taught Rubén how to water it and how to give it sunlight. “Thank you, young sir,” Rubén thanked Forrester.

“You have my sincerest gratitude as well.”

Then Rubén and Forrester watered the seed firmly. “Like this?” questioned Rubén, “Am I doing this right?” “Yes,”

answered Forrester. “Good enough, but you will learn.”



The sun peaked through the greenhouse and landed on the spot where they planted. The boys were happy and excited about whatever this seed would become.

“What do you think it will be?” questioned Rubén. “Do you think it will be an Astilbe or a Daylily?”

“I do not know,” answered Forrester. “But it will be a pretty one.” Rubén left the greenhouse where Jesús was standing there in disappointment.

“¿Rubén?” questioned Jesús. “¿Dónde has estado, Bubba?”

“Lo siento mucho, papá,” answered Rubén, “Esto es culpa mía, papá. Siento mucho no haber venido a casa esta tarde. ¿Podrías perdonarme?”

Then Rubén and Jesús went home. Then they went off into the sunset and left Forrester to himself. He has never felt this lonely before in his life.

Mr. Pryce then felt his way out and came with a phone in his hands, “Forrester, it is for you. It is your mother.”

Five minutes later, Forrester hung up the phone. “I have got to go home,” said Forrester. “My mother wants me.”

“What for?” Mr. Pryce wondered. “Is it an emergency?”

When Forrester vanished through the door, Mr. Pryce misunderstood.

“I wonder what the emergency was?” Mr. Pryce still wondered. “Wow, that boy was in a hurry or something.”

As Mr. Pryce entered his house, he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Mr. Pryce questioned. “I am armed.”

Then Mr. Pryce opened the door. And there, standing before him, was a woman of the age of forty-eight. She had long dark black hair, and her body was skinny. She was also Hispanic.

Her name is Ms. Alexandria Maddox. “Good afternoon, sir,”

said the fair lady. “What a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”



“And whom may you be, my fair lady?” answered Mr. Pryce as he felt her face. “Good afternoon to you too.”


Chapter Three

Thefairladysaid,“MynameisAlexandriaMaddox,and who are you, kind sir?” Then Mr. Pryce put down his armed gun and spoke softly, “Nice name, madam.” he responded. “I am Mr. Pryce.”

“Good name,” said the fair lady. “What is your age?” “I am forty-four,” Mr. Pryce answered. “And yours, fair lady?”

Alexandria thought about this question for a while. “I am forty-eight,” she answered. “Do you have any children of your own?”

“No,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Do you have any?” “Not yet,”

answered Alexandria. By then, Mr. Pryce had asked Alexandria if she would like to come in for a cup of tea.

“How many lumps of sugar, madam?” Mr. Pryce asked.

“Three,” answered Alexandria. “That is only enough.” Mr. Pryce then felt his way into the sugar lumps and tried to feel the sugar cubes.

“Three,” Mr. Pryce hesitated, “I only like two.” Then he felt his way to Alexandria, felt for her hand, and gave it to her.

Alexandria thanked Mr. Pryce kindly for the cup of tea.

“What is there to talk about?” Alexandria says.

Mr. Pryce hesitated to talk about wartime, but Alexandria insisted on other things. “Talking is good enough,” Mr. Pryce 10


thanked. “But there is so much to talk about.”

“How about this,” answered Alexandria. “We could not have met before. Let us talk about that.” “Good,” Mr. Pryce said thankfully. “We should talk about that.”

“Where were you born?” Alexandria questioned. “Europe, perhaps?” “Why would you say that?” answered Mr. Pryce. “Is it my accent?” Alexandria hesitated and said, “Yes. I think you are English.”

“Good job, my fair lady. That is correct. Good job, madam.”

That is what Mr. Pryce replied to Alexandria’s answer to a previous question.

“Thanks, kind sir,” thanked Alexandria. “What do you notice about myself?” Mr. Pryce felt her, “You are Hispanic.” he answered. “Am I correct?”

“Yeah,” Alexandria answered. “Good job, sir.” She then went to grab Mr. Pryce’s hand to shake it, and he noticed Alexandria’s feeling of the hands, and they shook hands.

After talking to each other, they got a knock at the door.

Alexandria answered the door, and she noticed that it was a boy.

“Who is this, Mr. Pryce?” Alexandria asked. “He is Rubén,”

Mr. Pryce answered. “He is my new neighbor.”

“Hello, madam,” said Rubén. “My name is Rubén Jesús Álvarez, and I am seven.” “Hello, Master,” answered Alexandria,

“nice to meet you, Rubén.”

“Indeed,” answered Rubén. “Nice to meet you, too.” Rubén came into Mr. Pryce’s house and sat on his couch.

“May I watch TV?” asked Rubén. “I wanted to watch The Scarlet Ninja.” “Who is The Scarlet Ninja?” Mr. Pryce questioned. “What is his real name?”

“He is a superhero,” answered Rubén. “His real name is 11


William “Will” Davis. He is from Illinois.” “Oh,” Mr. Pryce answered. “That is cool.”

Mr. Pryce then let Rubén watch the TV show. “This is a new episode called Episode 97,” Rubén said. “It is the season finale, the fourth season, and the twenty-sixth episode.”

Mr. Pryce was sipping his cup of tea and hearing Rubén speak,

“That is cool.” he replied. “May I watch it with you?” Rubén hesitated to tell Mr. Pryce that it was a kiddie show, but Mr.

Pryce did not mind.

“Sure,” Rubén said. Then Mr. Pryce felt his way into the living room and overheard the show until Rubén wanted to go outside.

“What do you like most about the show?” questioned Rubén,

“well, most of what you have heard.”

Mr. Pryce respected what Rubén wanted to say. “I liked the part where The Scarlet Ninja saved a cat from a tree before battling The Black Beast,” he answered.

“Me too,” agreed Rubén, “I have liked that part too.” Now, after they talked, Forrester came back with terrible news. “My Grandma, Cecelia O’Donnell, died,” Forrester said as he cried.

“How did she die?” Mr. Pryce started questioning. “What from?” Forrester cried. “She died from a lung disease,” he said miserably. “I forget what the name was.”

Mr. Pryce thought of what the possible death would be. “It is called Tuberculosis,” Mr. Pryce answered. “They abbreviated it to TB.”

Forrester then asked Mr. Pryce if he could stay around his house, and he told him only if it was alright with his parents.

“May I please use your phone, sir?” Forrester asked. “You may,” Mr. Pryce responded. “If you stay around, you have got to do chores.”



Then Forrester left to call his parents and came ten minutes later. “They agreed with it,” Forrester responded. “Sir, how much am I getting paid?”

“Let me think,” answered Mr. Pryce. “I will pay you £10.”

Rubén thought of the pricing. “£10 equals 1,876.76 Spanish Pesetas in my country,” said Rubén.

“Really?” Forrester said fascinatingly. “That is cool!” “How do you know that?” Mr. Pryce questioned. “That is cool how you knew that in your head.”

“Well,” answered Rubén, “as you may know, I am smart for my age at seven years old.” Mr. Pryce got fascinated by the head-counting math that Rubén did.

“Yes,” Mr. Pryce responded. “You are smart, indeed.” “Thank you, kindly,” thanked Rubén. “I am, am I not?”

Alexandria told everyone there were going to be thunder-storms soon. “All of us go in,” she said. “It is going to start pouring soon.”

They all entered the house and sat by the fire and its warmth.

It became nightfall, and Mr. Pryce told everyone to go home, but Forrester and Rubén.

Everyone left, and Mr. Pryce told Forrester to get his pillow and blanket from his home. Now that the room was silent, Mr.

Pryce asked Rubén a question.

“Do you want to meet The Scarlet Ninja?” Mr. Pryce questioned. “If you do, I will take you to see him.”

“Yes!” Rubén said so excitedly. “I do. But how are you going to do it?” Mr. Pryce told Rubén not to worry about it. He will make it happen.

Then Rubén went home. Mr. Forrester returned to Mr.

Pryce’s house. Then Mr. Pryce and Forrester rested until the morning.



The morning has come. Forrester woke up early in the morning, and Mr. Pryce woke a little later than Forrester.

“Good morning, sir,” said Forrester. “What is there to eat?”

Mr. Pryce thought about it and replied, “I have cereal, milk, and bowls in the cabinet. I will get the cereal, milk, and a bowl.

And I will make your breakfast.”

“Thank you, sir, kindly,” Forrester respected, “I will take anything you have.” Mr. Pryce felt his way into the kitchen, and he went past Mr. Pryce and sat at the kitchen table.

“I will give you Honey Munchies,” Mr. Pryce said, as he had only that. “Please,” Forrester said politely. “I will take anything you have got.”

Then Forrester and Mr. Pryce ate breakfast. After breakfast, they went outside, and Mr. Pryce gave Forrester his first chore.

“Clean the gardens,” said Mr. Pryce. “That is the first chore.”

Then Mr. Pryce gave Forrester a garden shovel and told him to be careful.

Thirty minutes passed, and Forrester finished. “What is next?”

he questioned. “I will do anything. And I will work hard at it.”

Mr. Pryce thought of a new chore and gave it to Forrester.

“Paint a new color on my fences,” Mr. Pryce said. “And I will teach you how to.” “What color, sir?” Forrester respectfully said. “I will be happy to paint it whatever.”

Mr. Pryce tried to think of the colors he had. “Marigold Yellow,” he said. “I have also got Pale Cerulean. Those are my paints.”

“This is what I will pick,” Forrester replied. “I have chosen Marigold Yellow.” “Good,” was Mr. Pryce’s reply. “You have chosen well. I would have chosen that too.”

Then Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the supply closet and grabbed the paint can. MARIGOLD YELLOW was across the lid.



“Here,” Mr. Pryce said. “Grab the handle carefully. It spills easily.” “Okay,” Forrester replied. “I will handle it cautiously.”

Then Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the fences to be painted.

“Paint it with me. Make sure the strokes are straight.” Mr.

Pryce told Forrester, “Do you know how to do straight lines?”

He added as he questioned.

“Yes, sir,” Forrester answered respectfully. “Good enough.”

“Good enough?” Mr. Pryce asked Forrester. “What do you mean by that?”


Chapter Four

Then,Forresterreplied,“Iamgood.Imean.Good,like GOOD.” Then, Mr. Pryce and Forrester painted the fences until Rubén stood at the doorway. He then came into the backyard.

“Hola, mi buen señor,” said Rubén, “soy yo, Rubén. ¿Te acuerdas?” “Hello,” responded Mr. Pryce. “It is you, Rubén, I remember.”

“You know why I am here,” asked Rubén. “Yeah,” answered Mr. Pryce. “I got to get my shoes on. Then I will take you to see him in a taxi.”

“¡Hurra!” Rubén said, excitingly, “Voy a conocer a mi ídolo favorito, ¡El Ninja Escarlata!” Then Mr. Pryce told Forrester to finish and go home. Then he took Rubén to see The Scarlet Ninja.

When Mr. Pryce and Rubén stepped into the building together, they noticed a man. He is medium-sized and buff.

This man was from Rockford, Illinois. When Mr. Pryce and Rubén found this man, he and Rubén started a conversation with each other.

“Good afternoon,” said the mysterious person. “My name would be—” Then he paused for a second. Rubén got jumpy and shouted, “You are The Scarlet Ninja! I know you from your 16


number-one hit TV show!”

The man revealed his name, “It is I, The Scarlet Ninja!” He announced in a deep voice. Immediately, he got swarmed by The Scarlet Ninja fanatics.

The Scarlet Ninja did not know what to do, the flashes from the cameras so profoundly in his face.

Rubén wanted to get The Scarlet Ninja’s autograph from him, but it was too late. They swarmed him with floods of very loud but screaming children.

After ten-and-a-half minutes of cameras in his face, the mob of people left The Scarlet Ninja alone. Then Rubén had his chance to get his autograph.

Rubén took Mr. Pryce’s hand and led them straight to The Scarlet Ninja. “Excuse me, sir?” questioned Rubén. “May I get your autograph?”

The Scarlet Ninja thought deeply enough about it, and only for his true fan, he gave it to Rubén for free instead of charging


Rubén gazed in wide wonder after his true idol gave him the signature. “For you,” The Scarlet Ninja said, “it will be my honor to give it to you for free.”

And then Mr. Pryce took Rubén home in a taxi, and they thanked The Scarlet Ninja for the free autograph.

When Mr. Pryce got home, he went to the backyard and all Marigold Yellow-painted fences around him.

Then Mr. Pryce dialed Forrester’s parent’s number, and Forrester’s father picked up the phone. “Hello?” answered Mr. Pryce. “Is this Kaitlyn Cahill? It is Mr. Pryce.”

Forrester’s father answered, “No, this is Kellen Cahill. Who is calling us?” Later, Mr. Pryce realized it was not Kaitlyn and asked for her over the phone.



“Yes?” questioned Kaitlyn, “Who may this be?” Mr. Pryce did not know what she meant. Because she already knew him.

“It is I, Mr. Pryce,” Mr. Pryce answered, “you already know me, remember?” Kaitlyn remembered, and she questioned why Mr. Pryce called her.

Mr. Pryce then answered back with the respect that you could give to a woman. “I mean this out of respect,” Mr. Pryce answered. “Your son, Forrester.” “Yeah?” Kaitlyn answered,

“what about my son?”

Then Mr. Pryce thought of a possible way to answer. “Your son is a great and skilled painter,” Mr. Pryce said, “you should seriously think of him as an artist when he grows up.”

“Gee, thanks, sir!” Kaitlyn said, “you are a good influence on my boy.” Mr. Pryce said, “Thanks, you are a nice woman.”

Mr. Pryce hung up the phone, climbed into bed, and slept until morning.

The morning came, and Mr. Pryce woke from his slumber, felt his way, and got something to eat from his kitchen. As Mr.

Pryce stepped out of his kitchen, he got a knock at the door.

When Mr. Pryce got to the door, he heard a loud bang from outside. BOOM! Then an MI5 agent named Graham Johnston Jr. knocked on Mr. Pryce’s door.

“Hello, sir. My name is MI5 agent Graham Johnston Jr., and I am here because of an explosion outside. May I have your full name, please?”

“Hello, and who may you be, sir?” Mr. Pryce wondered, “what did you say happened?” Then Mr. Pryce went to shut his door, but MI5 agent Johnston stopped him.

“MI5 agent Graham Johnston Jr., sir,” says MI5 agent Johnston. “There was an explosion outside. May I please have your name, sir?”



“What is this all about, MI5 agent Johnston?” says Mr. Pryce,

“wait, there was an explosion? I do not have anything to do with that, sir. But my name is Mr. Pryce. Why do you need it?”

“Okay, have you seen or heard about this person?” says MI5

agent Johnston. “Their name is Paxton Michael, they are from Merseyside, England, and they look like this.” Then MI5 agent Johnston shows his picture.

“No, I am sorry, I cannot tell you that, MI5 agent Johnston,”

apologizes Mr. Pryce, “I cannot see that photo because of my glaucoma, sir.”

“That is okay, Mr. Pryce,” says MI5 agent Johnston, “you are not the person I am looking for, and I am sorry to bother you, sir.”

“It is okay, MI5 agent Johnston,” says Mr. Pryce. “How come there was an explosion, sir? Is everything okay?”

“That is classified, Mr. Pryce,” says MI5 agent Johnston. “I am sorry, but I cannot display that information, sir.” MI5 agent Johnston later apologized.

“Oh, I understand that, sir. But is there anything else you want from me, MI5 agent Johnston?” Mr. Pryce wondered.

“Well, there is one last thing, sir,” says MI5 agent Johnston.

“Do you know anyone else who could help with my case, Mr.


“I do not know how this could help you,” says Mr. Pryce. “But I know of one person who I trust with the information. His name is Rubén Jesús Álvarez. Allow me to give him a call over, okay?”

Then, Mr. Pryce gave Rubén a call to come over. After Rubén arrived, he came quickly, and Mr. Pryce explained why he was there. Rubén quickly understood.

Rubén said, “Oh, did you know there was an explosion, Mr.



Pryce? I do not know if I could help, sir.”

MI5 agent Johnston questioned Rubén, “How do you know about this explosion, Rubén? Have you heard about a person I am looking for named Paxton Michael? He is from Merseyside, England.”

“No, sir. I have not heard of Paxton Michael. I am sorry,” says Rubén, “are they someone I should be concerned about, MI5

agent Johnston?”

“That is okay, Rubén. You are doing great, kiddo,” says MI5

agent Johnston. “Well, I must be heading onward with my case.

Thanks for your help, Mr. Pryce and Rubén.”

Rubén then says, “Thanks, MI5 agent Johnston. Good luck with your case, sir. I am sorry that I was not much help in your case.”

And Mr. Pryce says, “Yeah, thank you, MI5 agent Johnston.

Good luck with your case, sir. I am sorry that I was not much help in your case.”

MI5 agent Johnston then left to investigate the Paxton Michael case, and Rubén went home, which left Mr. Pryce to himself. Then Mr. Pryce felt his way inside his greenhouse.

While in the greenhouse, Mr. Pryce found the plant that Forrester and Rubén planted, which turned into a Daylily.

Mr. Pryce remembered that the boys hoped for an Astilbe or a Daylily and became the Daylily Rubén hoped.

After a while, Mr. Pryce left his greenhouse to come to his house because it was raining, and he did not like to get wet.

After Mr. Pryce felt his way and went into his house, it began to pour rain. Strangely, thirty seconds after it rained, Mr. Pryce heard a knock outside.

So Mr. Pryce felt his way to the door, to the doorknob, and opened his door. “Who is it?” he questioned, “I have my fists, 20


and I am not afraid to use them!”

The person did not respond. They wanted Mr. Pryce to feel a certain way. Mr. Pryce yelled, “State your name!” then wondered, “And why are you here?”

The person did not know the name of Mr. Pryce, so he shook and trembled with a shaky voice. The person trembled, “My-my-my-my, na-name is Gulielmus Cervidus.”


Chapter Five

Gulielmusfelltohisknees,“The-the-thereasonwhy-why I am here is-is-is, I-I-I got no-no-nowhere to sleep,” he trembled some more.

Mr. Pryce wanted Gulielmus to stop trembling about his words, so he invited him into his house, and then Mr. Pryce felt his way to the couch to sit.

Mr. Pryce then told Gulielmus, “Where are you from?” he questioned, “do you have parents?” Gulielmus then stood short and talked about his tale.

“My name is Gulielmus Cervidus,” said Gulielmus, “I believe that is my real last name.” He continued, “I do not remember my parents at all,” he added. “I am sixteen. And I do not remember my own family, okay!”

Mr. Pryce started telling Gulielmus not to should out loud and questioned him more. “What about a mother or father?”

Mr. Pryce questions, “do you remember them?”

Gulielmus fell to his knees and begged to stay this nightfall.

“Sir?” questioned Gulielmus, “may I withhold and stay here for a night?”

Mr. Pryce then thought about Gulielmus staying, and Gulielmus wanted no mercy. “Sure,” Mr. Pryce answered, “but it will cost you one stay.”



“Cost?” Gulielmus questions, “I am poor enough to be broke.” Thus, Mr. Pryce realized that Gulielmus was an orphan.

“Gulielmus?” Mr. Pryce questioned, “are you an orphan?”

Gulielmus revealed his true self and cried softly out loud.

“Yes! Yes!” he answered, “I am an orphan. I have no parents to take care of me. I am hungry, tired, and all wet!”

Gulielmus shocked Mr. Pryce with such sorrow, and his kind felt bad for him. “How is this,” Mr. Pryce said, “I will keep you for this nightfall, and I will feed you, and you will take a shower in the morning.”

Gulielmus got up upon his feet and nearly jumped for joy.

“Thank you, thank you.” Gulielmus said respectfully, “your sheltering is payment enough. My great thanks to you.”

Mr. Pryce wanted to treat Gulielmus with kindness and respect because he felt sorry for him. “You are welcome,” Mr.

Pryce answered, “well, let us get to it, sir.”

“Get to what?” Gulielmus questioned, “we are not going out in the pouring rain. Right?” Mr. Pryce thought Gulielmus was crazy for saying that. “No, sir.” Mr. Pryce responded, “we are going to bed for the nightfall.”

Mr. Pryce and Gulielmus ate a little something. Then they went to bed that night, only to wake up early.

The morning came, and Mr. Pryce woke up earlier than usual.

He woke up to teach Gulielmus how to take a shower.

Mr. Pryce would shout, “Gulielmus Cervidus!” Then he would tell Gulielmus, “Please wake up!” After Gulielmus woke, they both ate breakfast and got showers.

After they showered, Mr. Pryce had Gulielmus know how to wrap his towel around his body. “Boy, do I…” Mr. Pryce said,

“…know how to teach you about many things.”

“Ah,” responded Gulielmus, “Yes, sir. You know a lot about 23


teaching a teen like me.” “Like this,” Mr. Pryce responded. “You wrap like you are swaddling a baby child. You see?”

He went with Mr. Pryce and his teachings and began to wrap himself up as Mr. Pryce taught him. “Like that?” Gulielmus questioned. “Am I correct, no?”

Mr. Pryce had to redirect him instead of teaching him how.

“Here,” Mr. Pryce said, “let me instruct you differently.”

He was fighting at first and would not let Mr. Pryce touch his body. But after a while, Gulielmus calmed down and let him.

“Sir, I…” said Gulielmus. “… Shh!” Mr. Pryce said as he finished Gulielmus’ sentence. “But sir?” Gulielmus questioned,

“I must!”

“You must do what…?” replied Mr. Pryce. Gulielmus said, “I insist. I want to learn your truest ways, sir.”

Mr. Pryce wanted Gulielmus to have no trouble, so he changed his mind about Gulielmus. “I will give you,” Mr. Pryce said. “I will give this a chance.”

He almost noticed that Mr. Pryce was only trying to make him happier. “Are you noticing?” Gulielmus questioned.

“About what?” Mr. Pryce responded. Gulielmus replied,

“About how a teen like me could learn ways like yourself.” Then he added, “I have learned a lot since you helped me out.”

“Thank God for that, boy.” Mr. Pryce then said, “how come you have no parents?” Gulielmus sadly looked off into the distance and frowned.

“I was only four,” answered Gulielmus, “my mother got abused by her husband, and she had to shield me from that pain.”

Mr. Pryce wanted more from Gulielmus. “Your mother,” Mr.

Pryce answered, “got abused by your father?”

Gulielmus almost cried, “Yes!” he yelped. “It is true! Daddy was abusive!” Mr. Pryce wanted Gulielmus to remain as calm 24


as possible.

“Daddy, no!” Gulielmus screamed. “Try to calm down, Master!” Mr. Pryce wanted Gulielmus to calm down. Gulielmus wanted to be calm. But he thought of his father beating his mother.

“Daddy!” shouted Gulielmus, “do not dare hit my mama!” He remembered. “What you say, boy?!” Gulielmus remembered his father saying, “Do not dare talk to me like that!”

Gulielmus’s bad memories made him sad. “Oh, daddy!”

said Gulielmus, “do not hit me, please!” Mr. Pryce then told Gulielmus that it is okay to remember those memories. But not to say them out loud.

“Do you want something?” Mr. Pryce asked Gulielmus. “Do you want something of mine?” Gulielmus hurried to his feet,

“Surely, I do!” he said. “I want you to become—.”

“… Become what?” Mr. Pryce replied to Gulielmus. “I want to have you as my new daddy, please!” Mr. Pryce thought about what Gulielmus asked for and gave it a deep thought process.

Then Mr. Pryce replied, “I will cut you some slack, boy. I do not think so, not yet.” He nearly jumped for joy before Mr.

Pryce shot his wishes down.

“Okay,” Gulielmus said sadly, “I respect your wishes, Mister.”

Mr. Pryce wanted Gulielmus to become a son, but not of his.

Mr. Pryce thought about it, “Here is the deal. I have got a nice lady for you.” “And whom may that be?” said Gulielmus,

“what is her name?”

Mr. Pryce wanted to think of the lady that would be just right for Gulielmus. “The lady’s name is Ms. Alexandria Maddox,”

he answered, “she will be waiting for you at the right time.”

“Who is this Maddox lady?” Gulielmus questioned, “what is her age?” “Her name is Alexandria. And her age is forty-eight.”



Mr. Pryce answered.

Mr. Pryce went and talked to Gulielmus about the lady. Then Gulielmus understood what was to become of the lady.

He so desperately needed it. Mr. Pryce then wanted to call Gulielmus, but he had already left. Mr. Pryce got a knock at the door.

It is a woman. “Who is it?!” yelled Mr. Pryce, “I am armed, you hear me?!” Then the woman spoke. “Bonjour ! C’est moi, Madame Angélique, et je dois vous dire quelque chose.”

Mr. Pryce was astonished by what the woman was saying, so he opened the door scarcely. “Bonjour !” said the woman nicely.

Mr. Pryce answered, “Bonjour, ma dame. Je suis Mr. Pryce.”

Madam Angélique looked at Mr. Pryce with her hand on her heart.

“Bonjour, M. Pryce,” Madam Angélique answered, “et mon nom est Madame Angélique.” Then Mr. Pryce looked out the doorway to see if anyone else was there, and then he let Madam Angélique into his humble home.

“S’il vous plaît, ma dame,” Mr. Pryce said, letting Madam Angélique in, “pourquoi ne viens-tu pas t’asseoir sur le canapé

? Je peux te faire du thé si tu veux.”

Madam Angélique entered Mr. Pryce’s house and sat on the couch. “Non, je suis désolé d’avoir à vous dire ça,” Madam Angélique said, “mais je ne bois pas de thé. Vous prenez du café


Mr. Pryce was shocked that Madam Angélique wanted coffee.

“Je dois m’excuser auprès de vous,” Mr. Pryce answered, “Je ne bois pas de café. Je ne bois que du thé.” Mr. Pryce had only tea, no coffee.

“Très bien, et c’est parfait, M. Pryce,” Madam Angélique said 26


calmly, “connaissez-vous un endroit où je pourrais prendre un café ?” Mr. Pryce thought about that question.


Chapter Six

Mr.Pryceanswered,“Oui,jeconnaisunendroit.Il y a un endroit à Londres.” “Quel est le nom de cet endroit, M. Pryce ?” Madam Angélique questioned.

“Le Café de Frédérique,” was Mr. Pryce’s response.

Then Madam Angélique grabbed her purse and pocketbook and went out the doorway. “S’il vous plaît, attendez-moi, ma dame !” yelled Mr. Pryce. Then he went to feel his way and catch up with Madam Angélique.

Mr. Pryce felt his way to Madam Angélique and asked her if he could get in her vehicle. “Ma dame,” Mr. Pryce questioned, “je peux monter dans ta voiture pour aller à Le Café de Frédérique ?”

Madam Angélique immediately responded, “Oui, bien sûr, mon bon ami.” Mr. Pryce then felt his way to her passenger door upon opening it.

Then Madam Angélique got into her car and drove, following Mr. Pryce’s best directional skills. “Excusez-moi, mademoi-selle,” Mr. Pryce asked, “mais pouvons-nous parler en anglais si vous le pouvez ?”

“Yes,” Madam Angélique responded in her best British accent.

“I am Madam Angélique.” “Do you have a last name?” Mr. Pryce replied. “If yes, what is it?”



“No, kind sir,” Madam Angélique responded, “what is your first name?” Mr. Pryce responds, “Nah, I cannot tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” Madam Angélique calmly responds.

“I am a single woman.” loudly, Madam Angélique says, “I have nobody to be my husband!” Mr. Pryce agreed, “Me, too! I am a single male, just as you are a single female.”

“Okay,” Madam Angélique responded. Then, Mr. Pryce gave Madam Angélique the directions to the café he told her.

Mr. Pryce and Madam Angélique entered the café together.

And they ordered coffee and tea. Madam Angélique then took Mr. Pryce home and left, then Mr. Pryce went to sleep.

The morning came, and Mr. Pryce woke up from a deep slumber after the long night of riding with Madam Angélique in her car.

“What a long night,” exclaimed Mr. Pryce, “how much could I take from a French mistress?” Mr. Pryce then got up and felt his way around his home to his master bedroom and then into his kitchen.

Then Mr. Pryce got something to eat, and as he finished, he felt and walked his way to his greenhouse, where he found an unusual unwelcome guest at the doorway of his greenhouse.

“Hello,” said the unwelcome guest. “Who are you?” Mr. Pryce asked. “I am Patricia Joyce Carter,” said the guest. Mr. Pryce wondered, “Why are you here? And where are you from?”

The guest thought and concluded, “I am here for a reason,”

exclaimed the guest. “I am from Houston, Texas.” “Why are you here?” Patricia questioned.

Mr. Pryce told Patricia his story and how he became the world’s finest greenhouse master in all the lands of London.

Mr. Pryce replied, “I live here. You silly little girl.” “Silly?”

Patricia questioned weirdly, “What do you mean by silly?”



Mr. Pryce wanted to be nice, but Patricia mistook him for a mean man. “What is your problem?” Patricia questioned angrily, “I am just a little girl!”

Mr. Pryce did not mean to hurt or crush Patricia’s feelings, but what he said, she took by mistake. Patricia was short, nine years old, with light brunette hair, somewhat muscular, and an American Southerner.

Mr. Pryce did not want Patricia to take everything he said for granted, but she was a little misunderstood by her true feelings.

“Well, sorry, sir,” Patricia said, “I did not mean to take that for granted.” “It is fine,” Mr. Pryce answered, “no need to apologize.”

“But I insist,” Patricia insisted, “I apologize for my actions.”

Mr. Pryce surely did not think Patricia needed to apologize, but she did anyway.

Then, Patricia wanted to come into Mr. Pryce’s house, but he told her not to. And that it is rude of her.

“C’mon into my greenhouse, madam,” Mr. Pryce said. “It is just in my backyard.” “Why?” asked Patricia, “it is not like I live right down the corner.”

“Then where do you live?” Mr. Pryce wondered. “I will tell you a story,” says Patricia. “Okay,” Mr. Pryce replied.

“It all began when Mommy told me to go outside. She would have my baby brother walk with me till the dawn of the moon.”

Patricia continued, “Mommy would not have let me have my baby brother out of sight. She would kill me, plus my Daddy before her. My brother is the only thing my parents cared about, except myself.”

As Patricia finished her story, “Daddy would love for me to care for my baby brother, as my life depended on it.” Mr. Pryce then looked puzzled at Patricia.



“He is only four-and-a-half years old,” Patricia continued.

“Daddy would murder me before Mommy could.”

“Ah,” Mr. Pryce says. “I see.” “Only God can judge me,”

Patricia says faithfully, “and do not forget about his lovely son, Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, fair lady,” Mr. Pryce replied. “Why do you call me that?”

Patricia wondered. Mr. Pryce had to think deeply and smoothly about his answer.

“It is just a polite way to address and form a kind girl,” says Mr. Pryce. He continued, “As yourself, my lady.”

“You call me Mister,” Mr. Pryce insisted, “it is the polite way to address a man.” “Really?” Patricia questioned. “Shall I politely call you Mister?”

“Yes, fair lady.” Mr. Pryce replied, “Call me Mister or Mr.

Pryce.” Then Patricia went to Mr. Pryce’s doorway to the backyard and tried to open the door. Mr. Pryce then stopped her in his doorway.

“Where would you be going?” Mr. Pryce wondered, “Nobody but me is first out of my doorway to my greenhouse.” “Yes, Mister,” Patricia answered. “I sincerely apologize.”

Mr. Pryce then felt his way to Patricia and her face. “Ah, yes,”

he said. “What is your name again?” “My name, sir?” Patricia questioned. “It is Patricia Carter. Why?”

“How old are you, Patricia?” asked Mr. Pryce. Patricia answered, “I am nine, sir.” “Nine, huh?” Mr. Pryce said. “I remember when I was nine. Let me tell you a story.”

And a story Mr. Pryce told. Mummy would take me to the bus stop every day of school. She would always hold my tiny little hands and tell me, ‘it is going to be a fine day at school, correct?’”

I would answer, ‘Yes, mummy,” and she would send me on the 31


bus ride to London Primary School, where I would sometimes get beat up by Kingsley Holmes, a bully.

“What would Kingsley do to you?” Patricia asked. Mr. Pryce replied, “He would punch and kick me, call me stupid and ridiculous names, and do other things that bullies do.”

“Ouchies,” Patricia said, “whoa, that must have hurt you, huh?”

Then Mr. Pryce says, “Yes, but that is my past.” “Oh, that is not good that he did those to you,” says Patricia.

“Yeah, but that is still my past.” Mr. Pryce told Patricia again.

“There is nothing I could do about it, he could beat me up all he wanted, but that will never hurt my pride and joy.”

Then a while passed, and Mr. Pryce felt his way to the greenhouse, and Patricia followed him from the back.

“You will see different types of flowers and flowering pots, madam.” Mr. Pryce said. “What kinds?” Patricia wondered.


Chapter Seven


Patricia wanted to be a part of the excitement, so she jumped ahead of Mr. Pryce and startled him.

“Whoa!” Mr. Pryce said, startlingly, “watch where you are going, my lady.” Patricia apologized, “Sorry, Mister.” Patricia noticed one flower she did not see before and stopped in its tracks of dirt.

“Sir, do you know what kind of flower this is?” Patricia asked Mr. Pryce. “Yes, I most certainly do. I own all these flowers and know each one,” Mr. Pryce replied.

Mr. Pryce continued, “They are called Plumeria, you know?”

Patricia then took a whiff of the beautiful flowers. “Smells good,” she said. “Yeah, I know, Master.”

As Patricia finished sniffing the flower, she went to another flower and smelled it. Thunder strolled, and Patricia left.

Mr. Pryce went in and slept. When morning came, and Mr.

Pryce woke from his slumber, he felt his way out of bed and into the fridge to grab cereal and milk to eat breakfast.

“Where are the Kap’n Choco Puffs?” Mr. Pryce said out loud,

“Now, I need to feel my way to the pantry to feel if I have got cereal.” he added.

Mr. Pryce feels into the pantry to see if he had any cereal. “I 33


am feeling, but I do not feel anything.” he sadly said.

“Goddammit! Curses!” Mr. Pryce angrily said. He then went on an angry rant throughout his house and calmed down later than usual.

“Oh, Dear Heavenly Father,” Mr. Pryce started to pray, “I am coming to you today to speak of you for the assistance of brand-new cereal boxes.”

Mr. Pryce continued his prayer, “I want to pick out more others than chocolate cereal.” Please help me pick out the right kinds and healthier kinds. Amen.”

So Mr. Pryce felt his way to his phone to call Ms. Alexandria Maddox. He felt his way and dialed MAYfair 629. Alexandria picked up a minute after her phone rang.

“Hello, Mr. Pryce,” Alexandria answered. “Hello, is this Ms.

Alexandria Maddox?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Yes, how would you get my phone number?” Alexandria answered.

Mr. Pryce answered, “I remembered you gave me your number from my phone book.” “Do not you live in Mayfair, London?” he quickly added.

“Yes, Mr. Pryce.” Alexandria said, “What are you calling me for?” Mr. Pryce answered, “I am calling you for a kid I have met. He is an orphan.”

“What are his name and age?” Alexandria asked. “His name is Gulielmus Cervidus,” Mr. Pryce answered, “and the age is sixteen, madam.”

“Gulielmus Cervidus and sixteen, hmm?” Alexandria answered. “Yes, madam, that is the truth.” Mr. Pryce added. “What do you say, missus?” Mr. Pryce said as he gave Alexandria time to think about it.

“Sure, I will adopt him. But it will take time and money, right?” replied Alexandria. “Yes, take him two days from now, 34


and I will give you £2,000,000 for the offering.”

“Yes, that will give me £500,000,000. I will make sure this country gives me less than £1,500,000.” Alexandria implied.

“They will probably take him for £1,000,000.” Mr. Pryce insisted. Then he hung up the phone to dial a taxicab for himself.

“Welcome to the Michael Maynard Taxi Co.” answered taxicab driver George Maynard, “how may I assist you today?”

“Hello, is this the Michael Maynard Taxi Co.?” asked Mr.

Pryce. “Yes, sir,” answered George, “where is your location, and where are you going?”

“I live at 3376 Haslemere Road, London, LE14 7BA, United Kingdom, and I need to find somebody.”

“Who may that be, sir?” George asked. “His name is Gulielmus Cervidus, and why is that any of your business?”

“I am sorry for being nosy, sir,” George politely answered, “but I know who you are mentioning. Let me come over quickly. Be sure to be ready for my service, sir.”

“How much would that be costing me?” asked Mr. Pryce.

George replied, “it is £2.50 per mile. So I will give you 50 pence per mile for a break in the cost.”

“Okay,” answered Mr. Pryce. “I will take that fair offering.”

“I will meetcha there,” says George, “remember I gave you 50

pence per mile.”

“Why would you do that, madam?” asked Mr. Pryce. “Cause, you know,” George responded, “it is the least I can do for a fine gentleman like yourself, sir.”

Mr. Pryce then hung up the phone, feels to the couch, and lay down until the taxicab came. “Let me turn on the TV,” he said,

“until the cab comes.”

“But what is there to watch?” Mr. Pryce asked, “All there is to 35


watch is boring infomercials and tacky businesses to attend to.”

Thirty minutes passed, and the taxicab beeped its horn and had the meter running. “I am coming!” Mr. Pryce shouted,

“Just wait a few minutes, like bloody hell!”

Mr. Pryce did not realize it was George Maynard and could not wait to apologize for cursing and shouting.

He then got himself ready for the roadways, feels out of the doorway, and feels into the taxicab.

“Good evening, sir,” said George, “I will take you to the boy.

Please buckle up and enjoy the ride. It is going to be bumpy and harsh.”

“Okay,” replied Mr. Pryce, “how much per mile is it again?”

“50 pence,” answered George, “I am cutting you a cheap break, remember?”

“Yes, Master,” said Mr. Pryce. “How much if we drove 5.52

miles?” “It’ll cost £2.76, sir,” answered George.

“It is not going to take long, Master?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Nope, about 12.5 miles,” replied George. “It’ll only cost you £6.25, sir.”

“Good. So, it is just up Buckingham Rd, correct?” Mr. Pryce wondered. “Yes,” answered George, “Any more questions?”

“Nope, I am satisfied.” Mr. Pryce replied. “Enjoy the bumpy and harsh ride, sir,” said George. A few minutes passed, and George came to the location and withstood the orphan teen.

George beeped his horn. Gulielmus was startled as he hid through the shadows of the alleyways. Mr. Pryce paid George and told him to wait, so he shouted, “Gulielmus Cervidus! It is me, Mr. Pryce.”

He seemed to vanish, but Mr. Pryce could hear Gulielmus’

footsteps. “What do you want?” Gulielmus says. “I am here, do not worry.” answered Mr. Pryce, “I am here to take you. Do not you remember that deal?”



“Um…” Gulielmus trembled, “yes, sir. I remember it thor-oughly.” “Why do not you—” Gulielmus stopped Mr. Pryce.

“Why do not I what?” Gulielmus interrupted.

“Why do not you come with me?” Mr. Pryce said eagerly.

“I will take you to her house.” “I will do what is best for me,”

Gulielmus says. “I will go, but it will not work.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Pryce said. “I will go, but it will not work,” Gulielmus repeated. Then Gulielmus slowly peaked his head through the cracks of an old building, only to see the pure sunlight.

“I am coming,” said Gulielmus, “but I will not enjoy it.”

Gulielmus then took Mr. Pryce by the hand and entered the taxicab together.

“Take us to Ms. Maddox, please,” Gulielmus said politely.

Then George took them to Mayfair, London, and came upon her doorway.

Once they got there, Gulielmus took Mr. Pryce by the hand and led him to the doorway of Ms. Alexandria Maddox.


Chapter Eight


Alexandria answered, “Who are you, kind sir?” “I am Gulielmus Cervidus,” replied Gulielmus, “I am here to see, um, a Ms. Maddox.”

“This is her,” Alexandria told Gulielmus. “Ms. Alexandria Maddox is my name.” Mr. Pryce told Alexandria what they mentioned.

Then she allowed them into her house, and they negotiated between terms and contracts. Once they negotiated terms with the contract agreements, they went to an official court of law.

They were next in line after the man named Reginald Elliott, wherefore his case was shorter than they expected.

“State your names,” said the judge, “and why are you here?” “I am Mr. Pryce,” said Mr. Pryce. “I am Ms. Alexandria Maddox,”

said Alexandria. “And I am Mr. Gulielmus Cervidus,” said Gulielmus.

“We are here for the legal actions of adoption, Your Honor,”

says Alexandria. “Okay,” said the judge, “you may all sit.”

Then the judge began his “Rules of the Court” speech, “these are my rules, and please obey them.”

A few moments turned into hours, and the judge finally accepted the adoption papers before Alexandria changed Guliel-38


mus’s name and had to sign them.

“Sign the dotted x,” said the judge, “he is all yours after the payment is due.” “Thank you,” Alexandria accepted, “my sincerest acceptances, Your Honor.”

She paid and signed her name on the line, and Alexandria now owned Gulielmus’s new name. “What are you going to call me?” Gulielmus questioned.

“Your new name,” Alexandria said, “will be Greyson Harvey Maddox-Pryce.” “Greyson, huh?” Greyson said, “I love it, mum.”

Alexandria was all tingled when Greyson called her mum.

“Sure, you can call me mum now.” Greyson patiently waited until they left the courtroom to praise her for that.

“I sincerely praise you,” said Greyson, “and I love you, mum.”

They left the courtroom and went back to Alexandria’s house.

“My, my,” said Mr. Pryce, “I am like your daddy.”

“Daddy?” Greyson questioned, “how come?” Mr. Pryce wanted to surprise them with a ring but had none. “Let me get a taxicab again,” said Mr. Pryce. So he did.

A few minutes passed, and a taxicab came to pick him up.

“Take me to Emmalynn’s Jewelry, please.” Mr. Pryce told the driver.

So, the driver drove Mr. Pryce to the jewelry store and paid him. An associate was there to help him out. And he picked out a wedding ring that was her size.

“How much is this one?” Mr. Pryce asked. “It is £3,930,” said the jeweler associate, “if it is this ring you are asking for?”

“It is a 14k yellow gold ring with diamonds, right?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Yes, sir,” said the jeweler associate, “its size is 7.5. Is that okay?” “Yes,” Mr. Pryce answered, “that is fine.”

Then Mr. Pryce paid for the wedding ring, got the taxicab, drove to his house for his collection of engagement rings, and 39


drove back to Alexandria’s house.

Once Mr. Pryce paid both drivers for his trips back and forth, he bent down on one knee and got out his engagement ring.

“Will you please marry me, madam?” he said politely. “That is sweet,” Alexandria answered, “of course, I will.” So, they kissed each other.

It is now August 1950, and Mr. Pryce says he is getting a wedding to occur. Then they both got married on the date of August 5th, 1950.

Then they flew to Rome for their honeymoon, where they got to sightsee. Once they were there, they got to meet the Italian president, Luigi Einaudi, in a place called Quirinal Palace.

Then they went to other sites to see all over Rome. And they kissed all day long. Then it became night, and they flew back to England, where they came to Alexandria’s house.

Mr. Pryce was getting very sick and was sitting on the couch day and night, so Alexandria called 999 for an ambulance.

Then the ambulance took Mr. Pryce after what happened when they went to Rome. Alexandria and Greyson came to the hospital after the ambulance got there.

Then they both entered Mr. Pryce’s room, where he was all wired up with an oxygen mask and an intravenous. “Oh, honey,”

Alexandria cried, “please do not die!”

Then the doctor came into the room and told them about Mr. Pryce. “This is the issue,” Dr. Jenson Rodgers said, “it is Pneumonia.” “What is that?” questioned Greyson.

“Pneumonia is an inflammation of one or both lungs, typically due to a bacterial, viral, or fungal infection,” answered Dr.


Dr. Rodgers continued, “With pneumonia, the tiny air sacs inside the lungs fill with fluid or pus. This can cause symptoms 40


such as coughing, chest pain, and breathing difficulties. Anyone can develop pneumonia.”

As they were shocked by this, Dr. Rodgers made Alexandria and Greyson leave the room. An hour passed, and Dr. Rodgers came up with terrible news.

“Your husband,” said Dr. Rodgers, “is sick and close to death and needs hospitalization.” Dr. Rodgers gave Alexandria and Greyson a brief moment with Mr. Pryce.

“Dear Lord,” Greyson began to pray, “do not let daddy die, and see if your angels can watch over him. Amen.”

Then Dr. Rodgers came and told Alexandria and Greyson that they had to leave, and they left Mr. Pryce and hoped for him to stay alive.

Fifty minutes passed, and Dr. Rodgers came out with more news, “madam, he will be okay, but he will not live long.”

But Alexandria and Greyson praised the Lord and went into Mr. Pryce’s room to see him and make sure he remembered.

“Honey,” said Alexandria, “it is me. I am here, baby.”

“A-A-Alexandria?” mumbled Mr. Pryce, “I am going to be okay, but I am not living long.” “You are fine, I see, daddy,” said Greyson.

“Is that you, son?” Mr. Pryce said. “Yes, daddy, I know the news.” says Greyson, “I will do whatever it takes to keep you happy.”

Alexandria and Greyson left to give Mr. Pryce some rest and came out of the room before Dr. Rodgers told them he needed hospitalization until he felt better enough to go home.

They knew they could see Mr. Pryce any day they wanted until he passed. Then, sadly, as they came out of the hospital, they cried.

They returned home with faith that Mr. Pryce would be okay.



Alexandria and Greyson would have cried every day until Mr.

Pryce came home, and they knew he would be hopefully better.

A few weeks passed, and Alexandria and Greyson entered the hospital to see how Mr. Pryce felt.

Then they checked into the hospital to see his room, and they went back into his room to see him. “How are you feeling, daddy?” Greyson asked.

“I am feeling 10% better.” Mr. Pryce answered. “So, are you feeling good enough to go home?” Alexandria asked.

“Yes, it will take time with the discharge papers,” says Mr.

Pryce. They waited for Dr. Rodgers’ handwritten signature on the discharge papers.

Then they went home. Once they all got home from the hospital, Alexandria and Greyson carefully hugged Mr. Pryce, praising the Lord that he stayed good enough to be okay.

“What is this even for?” Mr. Pryce asked, “I know I am still alive, but to Dr. Rodgers, I only have two weeks left. So, do not be happy or sad yet.”

After hugging Mr. Pryce, Alexandria, and Greyson wanted to do things with him like never before.

They went outside and drove Mr. Pryce to wherever he wanted them to go. “Where do you wanna go, daddy?” Greyson asked. “Take me to this place, Buckingham Palace, please,” says Mr. Pryce.


Chapter Nine

ThenAlexandriadroveMr.Prycetothepalace.“Why do you want to go here, daddy?” wondered Greyson.

“Because I wanted you all to meet George VI, the King of the United Kingdom and the Dominions of the British Commonwealth,” says Mr. Pryce.

They went through the gates just to come to a halt. “And whom are you guys?” asked the guard, “who are you to see?” “We are here to see England’s George VI, please,” says Alexandria.

“What for?” the other guard questioned, “he is not here right now,” the guard continued, “but I order you that you must leave the palace’s ground.”

So, they left the palace’s grounds and went to another place Mr. Pryce wanted. “Take me to see my older brother, please,”

Mr. Pryce asked.

“What for?” Alexandria questioned. “I want to tell him I am dying soon,” Mr. Pryce answered, “I want him to come to my beloved funeral.”

Mr. Pryce gave them directions to his older brother’s house, and they helped him out of the car after they got there and went into the house.

“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Pryce’s older brother, “what are you doing here, Robert?” “Sir Richard Pryce II, I have terrible 43


news.” Mr. Pryce replied.

“How come there is always bad news?” Sir Richard said astonishingly. “I am dying in two weeks,” said Mr. Pryce, “so, please, could you come to my funeral?”

Then the room got silenced, and nothing was making noise, not even the slightest sounds of a squeaking mouse.

“Sure, Mr. Pryce,” Sir Richard responded, “I would love to come, but do not you forget about me.” “I am sure I will not,”

Mr. Pryce says, “I am just going to miss you all.”

They then left Sir Richard’s house and went home to help Mr. Pryce water his garden for the last time. Mr. Pryce said his goodbyes to the animals that burrowed under his garden.

“Bloody hell!” screamed Greyson, “why God? Why does he have to end this way!?” Then, sadly, after this day passed, they all went to sleep.

Alexandria kept a close eye on Mr. Pryce so that he would not die in his sleep, and then the morning came, and the sun was shining, and birds were chirping.

They drank tea together and had fun. “Would you like some more tea?” Mr. Pryce responded with a “yes” and thanked her.

“Thank you, kindly, dear.” Mr. Pryce told his wife. Then Greyson woke from his slumber and was tired and wanted some breakfast as well.

Then they made breakfast together and ate it until they got stuffed. “What shall we do today, daddy?” Greyson asked.

“Let us go out to the park,” Mr. Pryce answered, “then we can get some ice cream from a place I know on Scrimshire Lane.”

Then, after their breakfast, they went to the park together on walking. Alexandria and Greyson helped Mr. Pryce walk there.

“Let us go to Sumton Park,” Mr. Pryce insisted, “it is right next to the lane with the ice cream place.” They walked to the 44


park where Mr. Pryce insisted they go. There they watched as the children played on the playing grounds.

They watched and watched until they got bored and left. After a while, they left at ten o’clock sharp in the morning.

Then they walked to the place Mr. Pryce suggested and got the ice cream they wanted. “What kind do I want?” Greyson asked.

“Get what you want, sonny,” Mr. Pryce insisted, “as long as I am paying, get whatever you want.” Then Greyson got at least three flavors that he did not know.

“What kind is this one, madam?” Greyson asked the ice cream associate. “It is strawberry, sir,” she answered, “is that what you want, sir?”

Greyson picked the flavor and two more, “What kind is this one?” he asked. “It is cookies-n-cream, sir,” she answered. “Do you want this flavor?”

Then Greyson chose the flavor, and that left him with one more. “Let me guess this one. Is it chocolate?” “Yes,” answers the ice cream associate, “do you want it?”

So, Greyson selected the flavor, and that was it for him. Then it is Alexandria’s turn for hers. She picked the flavors and sat down to eat them.

Mr. Pryce selected his flavors, sat alongside Alexandria, and then came Greyson. And they all sat together, eating their ice cream flavors, and enjoyed their ice cream while it lasted.

“Where do you want to go next, daddy?” Greyson asked. “Let us just go home for the rest of the day,” Mr. Pryce answers. So, they went home after their ice cream.

After they went home, it started to become the afternoon, and they rested until the night, then it became the end of the day.



Then they did nothing for five days, as it turned from five days to a week. And then it is the month of August, still in the year 1950.

Then came Mr. Pryce’s funeral, and they all gathered for it. They got a pastor named Pastor Brantley Pearson. They sang Amazing Grace as they carried his body to the front of the service.

Pastor Brantley said a prayer as they carried the body to the front. Then Forrester began to say the Lord’s Prayer: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and for ever. Amen.

Then they sang Holy, Holy, Holy, and other hymns too. Then a short speech about Mr. Pryce. Alexandria and Greyson started it off, then Forrester.

And the rest of them said their speeches and said their final goodbyes. Pastor Brantley then sang more hymns as they carried his body to the front.

Then they all prayed for Mr. Pryce, and that was his funeral.

The End of the Book!



As Mr. Pryce enjoyed his life with his friends, he lived long enough to be happy learning about new friends and cultures.

Mr. Pryce was a likable man who enjoyed growing things in his greenhouse. He also learned a lot from the different friends and cultures of the people in his life.

Sadly, Mr. Pryce died as the story ended. He loved to see new things about the glorious life that he endured.

He did not know that he had real-life fans of this story. Not only that, he loves all of you for reading this story, and I cannot wait to learn more about you through this story.

Growing up with him as a youngster, he got bullied and did not let that phase him. He just loved to be the people’s favorite person to love and appreciate.

What is going to happen after Mr. Pryce’s death? Miss Laura Taylor, twenty-one, will take over Mr. Pryce’s greenhouse and house.

She would be happy to take over his greenhouse as she gets the same fans that Mr. Pryce had when he was alive.

Yes, in this story, Mr. Pryce has died peacefully from pneumonia, is adored by God, and is on his way to heaven.

And that he knows that his greenhouse will benefit many in it. In real life, my nanny, Marie Christy, died two years ago in August 2013.

That is what I compared this story to when it comes to the 47


elderly dying. I cannot wait to make The Greenhouse II, and I cannot wait to write it and see what you all think of it.

Please, do not hesitate to give me an opinion on what you think about this book. Thanks for reading The Greenhouse!


A Special Thanks I want to thank my family, my cousin Katie Christy for inspiring this book, my friends, my readers, and Blurb for self-publishing The Greenhouse.


Book Description In “The Greenhouse,” we are transported to the summer of 1950

in London, where Mr. Pryce, a man in his forties, is battling glaucoma. As he struggles to adapt to this new way of life, he discovers solace in his passion for gardening. Mr. Pryce devotes his time to tending a greenhouse in his backyard, where he can cultivate an array of plants and flowers. As he pours his heart and soul into his garden, he finds that he is able to leave the stresses of his life behind and find peace in nature.


Self-Publishing Date The Greenhouse was self-published originally on March 20th, 2016.