Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Western World #18

As soon as the moving van turned the corner onto Skyview Avenue, the curtains twitched. It was the kind of small town where everyone knew everyone, and anything out of the ordinary set the group texts ablaze with gossip. The arrival of the mysterious Mr. Eliot was no exception.

"He's from the city, you know," typed Martha Simons, peering out her front window. "Moved into the old Henderson place."

"The one that’s been empty for years?" her neighbor Judy chimed in. "Wonder what brings him out here."

Martha nodded, her eyes still fixed on the van as it backed into the driveway. "He’s got a lot of boxes. Must be planning to stay a while."

The next morning, Mr. Eliot ventured into town. His tall frame and sharp suit stood out against the backdrop of overalls and plaid shirts at the local diner where the town’s pulse could most reliably be taken. He ordered coffee and took a seat at the counter, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the hushed tones that bubbled around him.

Sally, the diner's owner and unofficial queen of the grapevine, approached with a pot of coffee.

"New in town?" she asked, her tone casual but eyes sharp.

"Just moved in," Eliot replied with a smile, accepting the coffee. "I’m Eliot. Eliot King."

"Well, I’m Sally, and if you need anything, you just let me know. We take care of our own here," she said, her words warm but her eyes scanning for any clue to this newcomer’s story.

By the time Eliot left, his arrival was the only topic of conversation. "He seems nice enough," Sally mused to the regulars. "But why would a city man move to such a quiet place like ours? And all alone too!"

Eliot’s presence became a familiar sight in the following weeks. He volunteered at the community garden, joined the local book club, and was even seen helping Mrs. Abernathy with her groceries. Yet, his life remained a mystery, fenced off by polite smiles and non-committal answers about his past.

The real breakthrough came at the town’s annual fall festival. Eliot entered the pie-baking contest, a tradition taken very seriously by the locals. He submitted a peculiarly spiced apple pie that raised eyebrows both for its unusual flavor and the audacity of the newcomer to challenge the reigning champions of pie baking.

As the judges tasted his creation, whispers swept through the crowd. "He used cardamom! Who puts cardamom in an apple pie?" Martha hissed to Judy, who nodded in agreement.

But when the results came in, Eliot’s pie was a surprising hit. The judges awarded him second place, much to the town’s shock. At the award ceremony, with all eyes on him, Eliot finally shared a piece of his story.

"Thank you," he began, his voice clear and carrying. "This recipe was my mother’s. She loved to experiment in the kitchen. I came here to start fresh, to find peace after spending so many years in the city. Your town has been a welcome reprieve."

The crowd was silent for a moment before applause broke out, warmer and more genuine than any before.

From that day on, the gossip around Eliot shifted. Conversations still buzzed, but with a new tone. "Did you hear about Eliot helping out at the school?" or "Eliot’s garden is coming along nicely, isn’t it?"

He was no longer just a subject of curiosity. The town embraced him, not just for his quirks and mysterious past, but for his kindness and the subtle ways he made the town his home.

The whispers and gossip never quite disappeared, but did carry smiles and nods of acceptance.


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(608 words)


Prompt: Set your story in a small town where everyone is suspicious of newcomers.