MidReal Story
A minimalist poster design for the movie "Tom Bombadill", in the style of Saul Bass. Abstract silhouettes, clean lines, simple shapes, bold colors, minimal details. It's a vector illustration. It has a vintage look, reminiscent of classic Hollywood cinema --ar 3:4 --style raw --niji 6
Scenario: A minimalist poster design for the movie "Tom Bombadill", in the style of Saul Bass. Abstract silhouettes, clean lines, simple shapes, bold colors, minimal details. It's a vector illustration. It has a vintage look, reminiscent of classic Hollywood cinema --ar 3:4 --style raw --niji 6
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Chapter One
The Wanderer
Tom Bombadil
It's easy to lose oneself in the darkness. To follow the path of least resistance, and to let the shadows guide the way. It's so much harder to find light in the dark and let it take you home.
Sometimes I wish I could find the light, just so I would know where to go. Where to stop.
I'm not lost, although I have felt that way many times, but I don't know where I'm going. I don't know my next destination. Sometimes I don't think there is one.
I'm a wanderer. A traveler. A man with no home. And no name.
I've stayed in this small cabin for a week, longer than I've stayed anywhere in years. I've never been to this part of West Virginia before, and I only stumbled upon this place because my car broke down. It was a fluke that led me here, and I had no idea the owner of this cabin was my uncle until I arrived.
My young niece was here when I got back to the cabin today. She was excited to see me, and I enjoyed her company this afternoon. She talked a bit too much for my liking, but she was an interesting girl, and she seemed to be very intelligent for her age. Although she was very naïve about the world, and she had a lot of questions that were hard to answer.
I feel responsible for her now, since her mother is dead, and her father… well, he was never in the picture. I don't know why my brother cut himself off from his family. It doesn't matter anyway. He's dead now too.
There are a lot of things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of. That's why I keep moving, keep running. But maybe it's time to stop.
Maybe.
I'm sitting on the porch and smoking a cigarette when I see her. Something draws me to look up at this exact moment as she walks through the trees that surround the cabin property. She's carrying a large backpack and a canvas bag in one hand and a sketchpad in the other.
Her hair is long and disheveled, probably from the wind coming through the trees. Her face is pale and pinched, but beautiful at the same time. She looks young—too young to be hiking out here alone—but the look in her eyes is old.
It's clear from the way she carries herself that she's an artist or that she fancies herself one anyway. Artists wear emotions on their sleeves, which makes it easy for me to read them.
She stops in front of the cabin, takes a deep breath, and then walks around the back toward the barn. The cabin is set back from the road, and it's surrounded by dense trees on all sides except for the front, which opens up into a small clearing. It's peaceful out here, which is why I haven't left yet.
The girl is gone for a few minutes before she returns to the front of the cabin and disappears into the trees again. I take another drag from my cigarette as I watch her from the porch.
She emerges from the trees less than ten minutes later, but this time she's headed toward the road. She stops at the edge of my driveway and looks around before continuing on toward town.
I stand up from the chair on the porch and walk toward her as she stands on the side of the road with her thumb sticking out.
“Hello,” I say as I approach her.
She turns to look at me when she hears my voice, but her face remains impassive. “Hi.”
Her voice is a little deeper than I thought it would be, but it's soft, like a whisper. Her eyes are a dark blue, and they look almost black in the dim light. “Can I give you a ride somewhere? It’s not safe for a young girl to be out here all alone.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I'm not a little girl.”
I look her up and down, and when I do, I see that she's right. She's tall for her age, but she's still young. She’s wearing a ripped up pair of skinny jeans and a black hoodie. Her long blond hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her skin is pale from the cold. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen and a half,” she says.
She doesn't move to get in the car, so I take another look at her. She's not an ugly girl by any means, but she's not the kind of girl I usually go for. She's far too young for me, but I can't help but notice her long legs and the tightness in her jeans. I don't know what it is about this girl that makes me feel so protective of her, but I want to help her.
I extend my arm out to her. “Come on,” I say with a smile. “It's freezing out here. Let me give you a ride home.”
She looks at my hand for a moment before taking it, and when she does, we both get a shock.
“Wow,” she says with wide eyes. “What was that?”
“You never felt anything like that before?” I ask with a laugh as I lead her to the car.
She shakes her head no. “It was like an electric shock or something.”
“Yeah.” I walk around to the driver’s side of the car and open the door for her. “That’s exactly what it was.” I motion for her to get inside as I walk over to the other side of the car.
“Thanks.” She gets in the car and shivers until I turn the heat up for her.
I close the door behind me and pull back onto the road, but there's something about this girl that won’t leave my mind. Something about her feels familiar, like I've met her before or—
“You live around here?”
“What?” I ask, shaking my head out of my daze.
“I said do you live around here?” she asks with a small smile.
“No,” I say with a chuckle as I shake my head again. “I’m just passing through.”
“Oh.” Her smile disappears from her face as quickly as it appeared.
I know that look on her face. It’s the same one I’ve seen on every girl I've ever met over the years, but I can’t figure out why she's so disappointed that I'm only passing through.
“I've got some family in town,” I say with a shrug, “but I haven’t seen them in years, so I thought I'd stop by.”
Her eyes light up again when she hears my words, and she turns to look at me with a smile on her face. “That’s nice,” she says, but there's something in her voice that tells me she's not being completely honest with me about my family.
“Yeah.” I nod my head, but I don’t believe her. There's no way I could have family in town after all these years and not have heard anything about it.
I shake my head again as I pull into the driveway of my uncle's place. “This is me,” I say, pointing to the small cabin set back from the road with the barn behind it.
She looks at it for a minute before turning to look at me, one eyebrow raised skeptically.
I laugh at the expression on her face, but I don’t bother asking her why she doesn’t believe me. It's written all over her face that she thinks I'm lying to her about my uncle being the owner of this place, and there's just something about that look that makes me want to keep it for myself.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says as I put the car in park and turn off the engine.
“No problem,” I tell her, but before I can get another word out, the door to the cabin opens, and two older women come flying out of it, screaming my name at the top of their lungs.
“Tom!” one of them yells as they both come running towards us.
“Tom, what have I told you about picking up strangers?”
the other one asks, shaking her head at me.
“Don’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary,” I tell them both with a smile, “but I don’t think it was necessary for either of us today.”
“She was on the side of the road all alone, in this neighborhood, after dark,” my aunt tells me, “and you just picked her up like it was no big deal.”
“She was the most interesting thing I’d seen all day,” I say.
“We’re not interesting enough for you?” my aunt asks, giving me a quizzical look.
“You know what I mean,” I tell her. “I wasn’t going to leave her there. Besides, she might be able to help with the car.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It started smoking like crazy when I pulled over,” I tell her, “so I shut it off.”
“We can take a look,” my uncle offers. “I’m sure we can help.”
“She’s not staying here tonight,” my aunt says quickly. “She’s a stranger. We don’t know anything about her.”
“I don’t think she was planning on staying the night,” I say. “She’s only a couple of miles away from here. She probably just wants to go home.”
“If she doesn’t have a car, how is she going to get there?” my aunt asks.
“I’m sure we can find a way to get her home,” I tell them. “If I have to give her a ride myself.”
“She’s not riding in that car if it’s smoking,” my uncle tells me. “Let me go take a look.”
“Thank you,” I say. I turn to the girl. “You can come wait inside. It’ll be more comfortable than the car.”
“Thanks,” she says again.
She opens the car door and starts to get out. Before she walks away, I grab her arm to stop her.
“By the way,” I tell her. “My name is Tom Bombadill.”
She gives a little laugh when I say my last name.
“You’re joking,” she says.
I shake my head. “Nope. Just old Tom Bombadill, that’s me.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tom Bombadill.” She smiles at me, and I have to keep from smiling back. I might be old, but I’m not so old that a pretty young thing like this doesn’t make me feel giddy as a boy.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful,” she says. “I just… I’m not used to people being so…nice.” She gives me a sad little smile.
“It’s no problem,” I tell her. “I just want to make sure you get home okay.”
“She’ll be fine,” my aunt says. “Now let’s go inside before we all freeze.”
“Thank you for coming, Tom,” my uncle says before he goes towards the cabin.
I follow him and the girl inside. Then I go to the kitchen to get her something to drink while my uncle goes to look at her car.
I pour a cup of coffee and carry it to the table where she’s sitting and waiting.
“I hope you like your coffee black,” I tell her, and she gives me a genuine smile.
“It’s perfect,” she says.
“You don’t have to be so nice to me,” she adds. “I didn’t mean to cause problems for your family. I just…”
She looks away from me and takes a sip of her coffee.
“You don’t have to explain,” I tell her. “We’re happy to help. My niece, she just lost her parents. It’s been hard on all of us, but especially on her. Your kind words, they put a smile on her face that I haven’t seen in a long time.” I give her a little smile. “So thank you for that.”
She blushes a little when I tell her that. It’s cute, and my heart flutters in my chest, even though I know better than to let it.
“Really, we’re glad to help,” I tell her. I take a sip of my coffee, and I’m surprised by how good it is. I didn’t think I’d like it without cream or sugar, but I do. She must not be from around here.
My uncle comes in from the living room a few minutes later.
“How do you do?” he asks me.
“It’s the alternator,” he tells us. “It’s shot. It’ll need to be replaced.”
I nod. “Thank you, John.”
My aunt comes in from the living room too.
“Well, we can’t have this young lady walking home in the dark,” she says. “I’ll give her some food to take with her too. Are you hungry, dear? Can I get you anything else?”
The girl shakes her head.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
My aunt smiles at her and then goes back into the kitchen.
“I’m sure we have an alternator that would work for your car,” my uncle tells me.
“I would be so grateful,” she says. “Thank you. How much would that be?”
“Well, how about we take a look first? And if we can’t find one that fits your car, we’ll see what else we can do to help?”
“Thank you so much.” She looks relieved.
“Uncle Tom!”
Samantha calls from the kitchen.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
he tells her. “You can tell me more about what happened. We’ll get it all worked out.”
She hesitates for a moment, looking back and forth between me and my uncle.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure your car gets fixed.”
She gives me a grateful smile.
I watch them leave the room. My aunt comes out of the kitchen with four sandwiches wrapped in foil. We’ll give this girl some food and send her on her way.
“What’s wrong with your car?” I ask my uncle.
“She needs an alternator, but she’s going to have to replace the radiator pretty soon too. It’s got some holes in it.”
“Where is she from?”
“I’m not sure. She has an accent. Sounds like maybe New York or Philly or something.”
“She was walking up that way toward Route 50 when I found her.”
“Well, she seems like a nice enough girl.” My aunt gives me a pointed look.
“What?”
My aunt rolls her eyes and walks back into the kitchen.
“I’m going to check on your cousin,” my uncle says, getting up from the table. “You can stay here with her.”
“Thanks, Uncle Tom.”
The girl comes out of the bathroom and we both look up at her. She looks a little better now that she’s washed her face and warmed up a bit.
“Your car needs a new alternator,” my uncle tells her. “I have one that will fit it.”
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes go wide with surprise and relief. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.”
“Just go in the kitchen and talk to my wife,” he says. “She’ll make you some sandwiches and I’ll go get it for you.”
We all sit around the table, eating cake and drinking coffee while my uncle takes her car apart in the garage.
“My name is Lily,” the girl tells us, sipping her coffee.
“I’m Tom.”
“My family calls me Tom,” he says, smirking at her with those hypnotic eyes.
She smiles back at him, shifting in her seat a little, like his name has turned her on.
He has that effect on people, especially women.
But he’s never seemed to notice before.
It’s not that he’s not attractive—he is—but it’s like he doesn’t know or care about things like that.
If anything, it only makes him more attractive.
“Tom Bombadill,” my aunt says, shaking her head as she sits down with us.
“What’s your last name?” Lily asks her.
“It’s Bombadill, too,” my aunt tells her.
“I’m Mary.”
“And your cousin?”
“Mary also,” my uncle says, walking in the door.
“Good to meet you, Lily.”
They all shake hands, and I just sit back and watch them, feeling like I’m in a movie or something, and it’s all so weirdly familiar that I don’t know if I should freak out or go with it.
I remember the day my uncle died, when everything changed for all of us.
