Sophie Fouts

4/3/15
Patchwork
Hello! My name is Adeline. I lived in the town of Chiffon off of Vesta Way. I had always
lived a simple life. I had a loving mother and father who adored me. I would go to the candy
store whenever I wanted. I would play with my friends. We would go to the park and race by the
railroad tracks. It was really quite a life honestly. The town loved me; everyone loved each other.
It was magnificent, but the most thing everyone loved in our town was our patches.
Patches, patches, patches everywhere! Everyone would go to the store out to by the next
new patch. We would sew them on our clothes, and there were so many different kinds. There
were these ones with yellow and green stripes and then there was these blue and orange ones
with spots. It was splendid! Every patch was so exquisitely made.
And the more patches you had, the more popular you became, and I was lucky to have
four patches on my clothes. Four patches! And I was so proud of them you see. Then on one day,
it was an odd day, I was playing down by the railway station with my friends when a train came
by, and this man got off. I had never seen such a sight, he had no patches on his clothes!
No patches? I thought.
Everyone just stared at him. No patches whatsoever. His garments were completely
whole, and I wondered about him.
He stayed in the town. I overheard father saying that the had rented a little apartment off
of Singer Street. No one knew what to make of him. Why did this man have no patches?

Unpublished work 2015 Sophie D. Fouts

Every morning I would see him. He would get up, and he would carry this little suitcase
with him. Then he would go to draw in the Brocade Gardens. My friends and I, curious as we
were, decided to spy on him.
Then after my friends had seen him, they said, Go, and talk to him.
I said, What! Why do I have to go ta-
Go! We want to see what he has to say.
I asked, Well, why dont you go?
Because you're the bravest! They replied.
So not wanting to show them otherwise, I snuck up on him.
I gazed at him from behind the bushes. He did not seem to be any different from an
ordinary man. Same hair, same hands, same feet, but I still didnt understand why he wasnt
wearing any patches.
I saw him drawing a couple of things with different patterns and such. It was beautiful! It
appeared to be a dress like my own, but his depiction bore no patches.
Then I stepped on a twig. He looked around at me and smiled.
He asked, What are you doing behind the bushes?
Well, why arent you wearing any patches? I said red faced from being caught.
Then, he laughed. I was dumbstruck. Why was he laughing at not having any patches?
Everyone wears them, I declared. So, why dont you?
He replied, I dont need them.
What an odd thing to say. Not needing patches? They were the very fabric of our society.
Patches showed how wealthy you were. Patches showed what class you were. Whether you were
a newsmaker, a shoemaker, or a candlemaker. They were everything.

Unpublished work 2015 Sophie D. Fouts

How come you dont need them?

He answered, Why, I make my own clothes.
And I thought, Make your own clothes? We never had to make any clothes. Our
patches always sought to our needs. Thats what I thought at least.
Then he said to me, Would you like me to make you one?
A dress without patches, I questioned?
Yes, no patches whatsoever. You dont need to have them, he stated.
"I love my patches though!
He shrugged. Doesnt mean you need them.
I looked at him. I was about to ask more questions when I heard my mother calling me.
She yelled, Adeline, Adeline where are you?
I replied, Over here, Mummy!
Then she stood there looking at me talking to the man, and she said, Adeline, come here
at once!
I scurried over to her, and she said, You are never to talk to that man again!
I said, Why not?
Because he doesnt wear any patches, she replied
But then I looked at her, and then I looked at him. He seemed very comfortable in his
own clothes that didnt have any patches. My mum didnt seem too comfortable at all. She had
nine patches. It didnt make any sense.
I looked at him as we walked away.
The next day, I decided to go visit him again anyway in the gardens. I wanted to ask him
about this dress he wanted to make for me, but he wasn't there!

Unpublished work 2015 Sophie D. Fouts

I raced back home, and I asked, "Mummy, where's the man with no patches?"
She told me, "Oh, your father and the city council made him go away."
"Go away!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," she said, "a man like that does not belong in Chiffon!"
And I was sad. The man did not deserve to be sent away, he was very nice.
I wandered around town for the rest of the day, until I found myself on the steps of the
man's apartment. A sign hung on the door that said "vacancy".
I sat there on the steps, wishing that the man with no patches was still around, when out
of the corner of my eye I spied the suitcase the man had been carrying with him. It had been
hidden from behind the hedge, and you only could have seen it from my angle. I hadn't gotten a
good look at the case before, but it appeared to be made out of worn brown leather with golden
latches.
I dragged it out and opened it. Inside was the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen!
It was a fern green dress with laced sleeves and neckline. Little ruby-red bows were used
to pull up the sleeves and tie them off. Another bow rested on the collar. Patterns of little navy
hearts and stars paraded across the fabric.
There was a note attached to it, and it said, Wear with pride.
I ran home as quickly as I could and put it on. It fit perfectly. The man had made me a
dress with no patches. I did not care what others thought. I had never felt so free in my patchless
dress.
I left my home and walked courageously throughout Chiffon. Everyone was astonished!
My friends asked, Where are your patches?
I said, I dont need them.

Unpublished work 2015 Sophie D. Fouts

I showed them how I was no longer barred by not having patches. I could move with no
limit, and my patchless clothes wouldnt rip.
They asked, Can you make us some?
I wasnt sure if I could, but then I looked inside of the suitcase. There were more clothes!
Another note said, Give freely.
I passed out the clothes in the case, and it would not stop! The clothes just kept on
coming and coming.
I showed everyone that we did not need patches anymore. The patchless man had given
us new clothes!
Pretty soon everyone was wearing the whole clothes that he had made for us. It was as if
each outfit had been tailored for that specific person.
There were still people who resented it, my father included. They tried to make us put
back on our old clothes, but our new ones wouldnt come off.
You will still see a few people walking around town with their patches bound to their
clothes.
I pity them.
They are still being offered this free gift, but they refuse to accept it, which is peculiar
because why would you not accept something that is meant to help you?
All the while I am still thankful for the patchless man and the gift the he has given me.

Unpublished work 2015 Sophie D. Fouts