[writing] DMFA Fanfic: The Hat (Updated: Ch 3, 27th May)

[Sofox]

The Hat: A DMFA fanfic
Produced, written by, conceived by, idea by, edited by and done by Sofox.
Based on DMFA by Amber Williams (c)1999-2010

The Hat

Prologue

As the deft but strong breeze suddenly pushed a top hat with the green band through the air, the hat reflected on the sudden, unexpected yet sheer pure joy he had experienced in the last few minutes. The couple, each of who's heads it had been on during their exchange, were full of life, expression and fun, a type of which he'd never experienced before.
Snagging on the protruding branch of a nearby tree, the had came to a stop, still a short distance from the door it had been flung from. He could hear them now inside, their laughs, their enjoyment, their sheer pleasure in eachothers company. The hat absorbed these moments, for they were precious. So infrequent were times of life and energy in abundance, and so often even in people's company, the tone remains muted, restrained, as if expressing the person you know you are to the fullest extend was societies greatest crime.
The hat had known many such moments through its life. Indeed the previous few moments had come so unexpectedly, it was almost as though the hat had slipped into another world, a world of joy, happiness broken free of the shackles of restraint and etiquette.
But for now the hat looked on, the wall shielding the sounds from inside, leaving the hat to only guess what was going on. Instead it reflected, "Were there always people like this? Or are they new? Have I just been not meeting these sort of people my whole life or is this the heralding of a new age where people speak, act and enjoy eachother openly?" The hat was unsure, and as if by cliché, it found its thoughts drifting back to its early days.

------


Chapter 1

The hat had been created by a renowned hatmaker in a surprisingly downmarket establishment out from the centre of a crossroads city.
Even know the hat could remember how it had been brought into being, the gnarled yet expert hands as it cut, stitched and glued. The hat was barely conscious as the old man held the hat up, looked at it from differing angles with a critical eye and decisive movements, and then unexpectedly, his face softened and broke into a half smile. Maybe a sign of satisfaction at his work? Or maybe there was something about the hat that took his attention, like there was something... special about it.
The man put the hat down and the hat thought it was fished, but then heard the man take something out, a snap of scissors, and then saw the green ribbon being placed around his body, and secured in place. The hat was lifted up and in a mirror it could see itself.
It was impressed, as a top hat, it was already a fairy elegant accoutrement, but the green band gave it something different. Flair? Distinctiveness? Some other word yet to be identified? The hat struggled through its, already fairly advanced for an inanimate object, vocabulary but could find nothing and gave up. Somewhat put off, it once again paid attention to its surrounding.
In the meantime the man had walked with the hat from the workshop, through to the main shop area, and placed it neatly on a wooden stand high up on the shelf. He had a good view of the shop from here, as well as the hats on the shelf that it had been placed between. A bowler hat on the left, and a rather strange, almost experimental hat on the right, technically a top hat but too angular with a narrow bit in the middle. Probably a spazm of the eras current fashion trends. The hat doubted that particular trend would last long.
In the days that followed, the hat would see many customers come in and look at or buy hats, afterall it was a hat shop. The hat also had a gaining admiration for its creator, the hat maker. Apart from his excellent skill, he seemed a generally kind and sympathetic person, liable unfortunately to throw the odd tantrum if a shipment was missed, a delivery of his went missing or materials he received were substandard; yet at the same time when he engaged in his work or the odd customer, you could see the love and expression in his eyes, and realise his tantrums were simply the result of a man who expected many great things of the world and was constantly disappointed when the world failed to meet them.
The hat also learned of its fellow neighbours and other items for sale. Apparently the hat on the self below him was eternally jealous of our hat with the green band. The hat in the shelf below had originally intended to be outfitted with the finest felt during its creation, but the arrival of that felt had been delayed, and a lower quality felt was used instead. When felt finally did arrive, it was instead used in the creation of the green banded hat. When the hat heard this, it swelled with pride. Had this been the reason the hatmaker had given it that curious glance just after examining it? Maybe... maybe...
But more to the point, the lower shelf hat was furious about this, and demanded that something be done about it. It's jealousy, anger and outright fury over the nature of things was keenly focused on the green banded hat as it thought up what it could do. But, being an inanimate object, it was unable to do anything, and so just sat on the self below the green banded hat while the weeks passed.
There was also a nice bonnie straw hat, sitting on porcelain head nearby on top of a high stand. It seemed happy, optimistic and had a gentle, almost carefree nature like a Summer breeze blowing through a field. But unfortunately, it kept to itself, and so didn't fill up the shop with its stunning nature and being as it so possibly could have.
There were others too. Some who'd stayed a great length of time and felt like regulars who knew the place like an old hat, others just seemed to arrive and disappear, barely a peep. As time progressed though, some of the more stubborn hats were shifted and were replaced by newer ones and the green banded hat started to feel uncomfortable. Why was it not being sold? What was different about it?
Over time and observation, it saw the truth. Despite the high quality of some hats in this shop, the green banded hat included, this shop was generally in a lower end area, serving lower end customers. The hats that were regularly bought were the cheaper ones on the lower shelves, while high quality ones on the higher shelves rarely moved as much. When the hat first realised this, he swelled with pride. Of course it wasn't being sold for being bad, it wasn't being sold because it was waiting for the right person to come along. Someone who truly deserved to wear it. A rare person who would truly be worth waiting for.
And wait the hat did, and wait, and wait...
Soon the boyish pride and optimism became muted, and the hat wondered if anyone would pick him up, and became sullen. Sometimes he could just imagine the shop becoming abandoned and him just resting in dusty storehouse, or a respectful and upperclass man thinking of buying a good quality hat simply passing by the store discounting even going in at first glance at its storefront (granted the hat hadn't even seen the storefront). Why was it like this? Why was no one appreciating how special this hat was? Why wasn't he getting any opportunity to show it? The hat became angry at the other hats for having a better chance at being bought then himself, and kept to himself. He started loathing people and hats for silly details and petty dislikes. The hat believed in keeping strong facade against the tough world, giving what you too, but inside he felt hollow and empty.
But one day a boy came in with its mummy. "Mummy, can I get that hat?" He asked, pointing, the hat was surprised, directly at itself.
"Don't be silly, it's too expensive," his mother replied.
"But please, I like it, it's nice."
"No, we can't afford it and we're not getting it."
As the mother pulled the boy from the store, the boy gave a final look at the hat.
"I still like it."
Strangely enough, that did it for the hat. The boy may have been young, but was honest, sincere. Suddenly it stopped caring whether it would be bought or not. Someone had appreciated its quality and expressed it, not caring what anyone else thought, just knowing. The hat was happy and fulfilled, and while it didn't know how long the happiness would last but it was happy to hold onto it for as long as it did.
Maybe someone like the boy would come into the shop, someone with money. Someone who would look at the hat a know in an instant it was the one the wanted, and go up to the counter and buy it.
It was a nice though, and for a while the hat was content to leave the dream as a dream for now, but what it did not know at the time was that events would soon make that wistful dream take shape, but not in anywhere near the manner the hat expected....


End of Chapter 1

[Gabi]

Interesting story. The typos made it a bit hard to read, but I liked how you described things from the hat's perspective. And the remark about its vocabulary.

[Crawldragon]

I lol'd

No, seriously, this is actually quite cool: a very original idea. I don't know how many other people would come up with the idea of writing a fan fiction about a top hat.

Your writing skill is also superb. You managed to give the sense of time passing without making the story boring in the process. You're also very good at anthropomorphization.

Keep this up. I'd love to see what happens next!
I'd give you a cookie as a reward, but the mow from earlier on in this post ate it...

[Sofox]

Chapter 2

It had been a rather sleepy morning and the hat had barely being paying attention. As the morning sun illuminated the storefront, the hatmaker busied himself in the back until the chimes from the shop door brought him to the counter.
A smartly dressed man (green tunic, white shirt, dark hat) strided to the counter and stopped short. For a moment there was silence between him and the hatmaker, before the visitor spoke.
"Mr. Benjamin."
"Mr. Woodruff."
"I hope you don't think it rude of me to talk to you by entering your shop like this."
"I think it very rude."
"Then let's get to the point. Why were we not been reimbursed at the appropriate time."
"A small financial miscalculation."
"And when will it be corrected."
"Saturday. Week. Or later."
"And the installment after that?"
"Well I can't quite say."
"Do you even know how much you owe us? In total?"
"Not at the moment, but if you let me consult my books I should be able to tell you."
"You are treating this far too lightly and with an extremely unnecessary tone. We did not force you into this agreement, you came to us for the finance."
"My memory is perfect."
"Good, then you remember what happens if you fail to pay up." There was a moment of silence hung between the two men, and then he continued.
"There's no reason to be antagonistic, it's a simple contract you agreed to and we expect you to fulfill. In the meantime, I'm going to leave this with you for repairs..." he took off his hat and placed it on the counter, "...and if you give the matter the respect it deserves I mightn't even return to pick it up personally."
He turned about and faced the rest of shop, "Hmmmm, but of course I'll need a replacement for the time being."
Before the hat could barely even register this comment, Mr. Woodruff was walking towards its very shelf. The hat's mind raced at this sudden turn of events but before it had concluded what was happening, a pair of hands reached out and grasped, quite delicately, the brim on either side of it. The hat found itself suddenly being lifted right into the air, turned around, and in a sudden yet neat drop, it plopped snugly onto the man's head. The sensation was stunning as it felt itself fitted around the crown of the head. The feeling of a mobile and living being underneath it, the feeling of being at the top, of being adorned for no purpose other then to gain respect and admiration. Before it could even think, an overriding realisation flooded the hat's mind: For the first time ever, it was being worn! It's entire purpose being fulfilled!
The man turned to face the shopkeeper with the unfamiliar movement startling the hat.
"Quite an adequate replacement," he said.
The hat would have been insulted, but had manged to pick up the lingering tone of understatement, and was instead most satisfied.
This was all so unexpected, it wasn't sure what would happen, and this all seemed so improper and contrary to its expectations, to be suddenly grabbed from the shelf and worn like that with no warning, and clearly without going through the proper procedure. Yet despite this, a feeling of excitement and exhilaration suddenly filled the hat after so many days and weeks sitting stationary on that shelf, and for the moment it just didn't care.
The shopkeeper gaped at the man's brash action. "Don't worry," smirked the man, "I'll treat your loan with the same respect you treat ours."
The man, turning, and once again, striding, this time to the front door. The hat was giddy as the environs of the shop moved around him as he moved forward. The way that objects near and far seemed to move at different speeds amazed it. Meanwhile the door was getting bigger, and the hat knew how in moments, he'd do something he'd never done before, leave the shop and see a world it couldn't even imagine.
But the man paused as he reached the door, almost as if intentionally prolonging the hat's anticipation, and gave a final parting call to the shopkeeper. "And if you don't think the prospect so novel: Try replying to our letters once in a while," and walked on.
A pull at the door handle, a chime, a large step forward and... sunshine flooded the hat's world.
The sights and sounds were overwhelming. The other side of the street wasn't much further then the length of the shop, but in either direction the world stretched on for distances the hat didn't even know existed, people as small as ants in the distance (the hat didn't know what ants were at that point but knew of items as small as them).
In all the commotion Mr. Woodruff barely hesitated before stepping forward and joining the throng. The hat felt itself bobbing up and down with the man's step as it moved forward through the activity. It took in the sights and sounds of the world around it and all the people going this way and that. So much activity, so many different colours. A child laughing at something another kid was telling him, another man racing down the street, a leather bag clutched to his chest; a woman with blond hair sighing as she leaned against the wall.
Not of the people in the area were dressed well, certainly not as nicely as the man it was on top of (being a hat, it naturally had a good sense of fashion), but they all had their charm, their energy, their own individuality, who would have known there would be so many of these beings in this world.
The buildings were diverse, some were brick that seemed to lean into the building, some just blank like the builder hat finished the house's skeleton and left it at that, on or two with with a fashionable mix of brick with a carved wooden front(the Hat Shop was one such building). Even with the sort distance the man was walking, to the hat it felt like an expansive experience and it drew in every little detail.
Presently, the man turned down a narrow street, and when he emerged he was trekking up a dirt track along a grassy hill.
The rise in elevation gave the hat a view of the whole city, a sea of rooftops with a spike here or a steeple there. In the distance, green mounds rose up and curved back down again, and something the hat only now truly appreciated: There was no ceiling above it all, the top of the world just continually stretched up into the vast blue that seemed to surround everything that was not ground, building or person. For the first time the hat felt like the world was truly infinite, like it would stretch on forever in all directions, and that anything you could imagine could be found beyond the right hill or around the right corner. Had the hat had lungs it would have taken a sharp intake of breath as its mind tried to think of the possibilities and grasp the ungraspable.
The sound of footsteps changing from soft to hard alerted the hat that its temporary owner was now on a paved road and the hat's focus came back to the present.
Mr. Woodruff picked up his stride and suddenly turned to walk down a pathway to a detached granite building, up a short set of steps, and in the front door. Even with the plaque on its front, it seemed more like a residence, which was why the hat was surprised to suddenly find in the hall a desk where a secretary sat, her attention on something she was writing.
"Is Mr. Willis in?"
The secretary snapped to attention. "I'm afraid he's just gone out to lunch."
"He must be meeting someone then. Any messages? No of course not you'd tell me, I'll be in my office."
And now the man's stride went up the stairs. From the great openness to the enclosed space, the shift was quite a bit for the hat to suddenly adjust to, but various articles still grabbed his attention such as the grandfather clock and the paintings that adorned the walls.
Eventually the man reached the landing, and entered a broad wide room with a great glass window at the far end that let sunlight fall on the desk in front of it.
The man paused at the door and taking the hat by the brim, removed it and placed it on a hatstand.
A hatstand! Thought the hat, something designed for things just like me! Securely placed on a wooden arm that stuck a strut up into its inside corner, the hat noticed the man walk towards his desk and sit down.
He stretched, took a sheaf of paper out of a drawer, and started perusing it.

[Drayco84]

I just cannot read through this... It reminds me to too many objects that I've seen laying on the side of the road or flat-out abandoned... It reminds me of some of the stuffed animals I've had (Or rather were forced) to throw out... *Sniff.* I need another tissue...

[Sofox]

Chapter 3

The hat remained perched on the hatstand as the day wore on. A suprising mix of feelings flowed through the hat, one after another like the clouds that passed outside the window.
First was surprise at the new situation, the exhilleartion of having something totally new happen and being in such new surroundings, but that faded and was replaced with uncertainty, then fear. What if the new owner didn't respect it? What would happen to it? What did the owner even do? This blended into curiousity about it's new owner, followed by guit, a feeling that it abandoned its creator. There was no way that had been a legitimate transaction, it's ownership was clearly in question.
But then thoughts about how its creator clearly had been involved in something outside of his ability to deal with, and a self righteous feeling that the creator should have known it would happen, but that feeling subsided and the hat was just left with the consolation that there was nothing it could have done, lacking any personal movement or means of communication.
The day wore on, and the hat wore out. Certainly used to staying in the same position for a long time, it was at least used to the hustle and bustle of the shop to provide comfort and a sense of activity. Suddenly without that ambiance, almost taken for granted, the hat felt suddenly uncertain and unsure, feeling small in that great big room with the only occasional activity coming from his current owner at the far end of the room behind a large desk.
When various thoughts and feelings subsided somewhat, the had decided to focus on his owner once more. There wasn't much to tell that he hadn't already known. Relatively young with vigour still persent, formally dressed though currently with his shirt sleeves rolled up, neat and close cut hair and currently with an intense expression on his face as he looked from document to document; sometimes leaning over intently and at other times, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his chair, holding the paper in the corner with a single hand.
The hat tried to imagine what sort of an owner he would be. From the hat stand, clear dress sense and directness, he seemed like someone who would take good care of his posessions, particularly since the room seemed in excellent condition from the marble fireplace to the fresh carpet to the oak panelling to the clean windows behind him. Even his desk seemed well organised with only a few pieces of paper and the hat was sure it was completely clear when he came in save for a few desk utilities.
At one point he got up and pulled a cord hanging from the roof in a corner of the room and a bell rung out. A smartly dressed secretary soon entered the room and Mr. Woodruff quickly got to the point.
"Send a letter to Sir Debnham please. Write the following:

Dear Sir Debnham,
Further to your correspondence of April 5th, I feel it important to inform you that Belling & Junior has agreed to provide funding for the Trace Gillham Expedition, preparations are already underway. While I would be happy to assist should you desire to puruse matters, I would understand if you decided to leave things as they are.

Regards and I hope I can provide assistance at some point in the future, etc. etc.

Got that?"
The secretary nodded. "He won't be pleased with that one," she remarked slyly.
"We missed a bullet, that's all I'll say."
They nodded to eachother as if to close the conversation.
As the secretary left, the hat happened to glance on the pad of paper she had made her notes in, but only saw a set of indecipherable symbols apparently of some other language.
The day wore on and through the great windows the hat could see twilight setting in. The light dimmed and Mr. Woodruff lit a candle to see, but either he found working like this unsatisfactory or felt he had done enough for the day as he soon blew out the candle, sorted out his sleeves and the remaining pieces of paper, and in the dimmness rose from his desk, walked across the room, put the hat back on his head, and left the room.

[Infranscia]

Okay, this is cute.   I'm wondering what else happens.  Can hardly wait to see.