Hi guys! Sorry I haven't been updating for quite a while. It's because of major writer's block…also I'm reading other books I had to finish, ha ha, lame excuse ;p.

Also, thank you for the wonderful comments you guys wrote! I exploded with happiness when I read them!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Infernal Devices series by the wonderful Cassandra Clare

The automatic white washer

When Henry was about sixteen years old, he got a job painting picket fences white. It was a very messy, boring, and a tedious job but he was paid well. Though, Henry never wanted to work, but his mother got so fed up with him tinkering on his little inventions that she kicked him out of the house and demanded to get a job because one day he will have a family and he would have to help provide, shelter and good food for them in the future. So every day, in the afternoon, he would fill people's requests for painted fences.

Henry's arm ached every hour every time he painted up and down, the ache was worse when conscience told him he had several other people's fences to white wash. He was also splattered with white paint and grass stains, he was getting tired of his job. Getting a new job was out of the question; Henry would only burn food if he worked in a restaurant, or spill food on the costumers, and well, other jobs seemed out of reach for him. Slacking off was out of the question as well, mother would only kick him out of the house and demand work until dinner time.

Ok, he thought. I like to invent, that's something I love. I don't like white washing picket fences, that's something I hate.

While in thought and painting a rich land lord's picket fence, he watched a little girl on her swing on her front lawn. She laughed as she went merrily up and down on her red seat. Her feet swung, touching the ground when the swing went down, making a long streak on the green grass below her. His fascination with the swing, the girl and the white washing the fences problem fused together in his mind.

Making the little girl come over with her swing set and dip her feet with white wash while standing close to the picket fence?

Ok, not exactly.

He figured to come up with this automatic white washing machine that would do the work for him. He would have a long metal lever going up and down, attached to that would be a paint brush. For the paint, he would have a long tube attached to the lever and through the paint brushes' wooden grip. It would disperse the paint on the bristles of the brush. The tube would connect with the paint can. For the swinging motion, he would need a small steam engine, somewhat like a train's but a lot smaller, and not as complex. All he would need to do is move the machine forward when the machine put on a perfect coat of paint on one section of the fence.

With the idea gearing and spinning in the corner of his mind, he ran home (after after finishing the white picket fence and being paid the money). He quietly crept inside his home, not wanting to wake mother and raced to his workshop. There, he tinkered and tailored his newest invention, not even thinking about his unfinished inventions piled up in the corner on his room that have lost the inspiration. He didn't even need to plan it out; it was already stuck to his mind like post it notes.

He worked endlessly at the new toy until dawn when his mother found him in his workshop. Then, when he was finished, he gave it a nice coat of red paint, to hind any ugly imperfections. When he let it dry, he decided to test it out, He laid a plank of wood on his wall and set the machine in front of it, he also put a bucket of fresh white wash under it.

His chest tightened with an odd mixture of excitement and anxiety. Will it work? Will it explode? Did I miss anything? His mind filled with questions to only answer when he clicked the on switch.

It sputtered to life, it coughed for a moment, twitching and shaking, making a loud engine noise. Henry's heart leaped as he saw white traveling up the tube and into the paint brush. The brush jolted spilling a bit of paint on the floor, then the lever began to teeter and totter. The brush painted gracefully on the wood, making nice, even strokes. Henry gleamed.

He would be free of aching white-washing duty.

o00o

Henry leapt out of his bed, eager to start his job. This would be a different day from the others, free from back breaking, arm aching work. He slipped into his work clothes, snatched fresh toast from the toaster and kissed her mother goodbye. He picked up his machine and the bucket of white wash and dashed out the front door, the sun greeting his face warmly.

He ran to the house that he would be painting fences. It was a large mansion, fine pink tiles lined up in a unique design on the roof, a white grand porch where a rocking chair rocked back and forth with grace. When he took a glance at the backyard, he was astounded by the largeness and the beauty of it all, it had blossoming flowers and a pink blossom tree swaying in the wind, all bordered up from the outside world by an ugly brown picket fence. He told himself that he had a machine to help him, and then suddenly how large the backyard was didn't seem to challenge him anymore.

In the request, the owner said that he could go right in and white wash the fences so he did. He opened the gate to the backyard and carried the machine to the corner of the yard; he put the whitewash under and switched it on. It roared to life and began to do its work; he smiled proudly as the brush moved up and down, coating the fence into a nice and pure white. He wheeled it slowly to the next section of the fence; this would take no time to finish at all.

While he was doing his work, almost halfway to the end, he heard a small clicking noise, almost like if you tapped a penny with your fingernail. He wasn't sure if it was coming from the machine or not, he decided it didn't matter and he went on finishing the last three sections of the fence, ignoring the small clicking sound.

Click, click, click, click, click, click, and click

Henry wondered what he would do in his spare time; he couldn't come home just yet after doing the rest of his requests. Maybe if Martin was home he could…

Click, click, click, click, click, click, CLICK

He was in deep thought, wondering how much attention he would get if he introduced this to the world, why, he would more famous than Thomas Edison or…

BANG!

The next thing Henry knew, that the world before him turned white, he was smothered in white wash, head to toe, around him, flowers that used to pretty colors of pink and yellow where covered in white, drooping now, the grass was splattered into streaks of paint. The machine fell apart, sputtering its last cough before dying. He didn't know what caused his invention to suddenly blow up.

Henry sighed; a part of him knew that it would come to this.

A loud banging noise from the back door erupted the silence; Henry looked up to meet a frightened lady. She was wearing a straw sun hat, her mousy brown hair rested on her shoulders where it met the puffed sleeves of her yellow sun dress. She had chocolate brown eyes and she particularly small, she was about Henry's age.

The lady gazed at the paint covered man before her. She already knew it was the white washer, she had seen him come in.

"What on earth happened?" She said, stepping into the green that wasn't streaked by white, coming towards him.

Henry gave a weak smile "My latest invention blew up" He said foolishly

The lady frowned, when she was close to him, she got out her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped some paint off of his face. She jumped a little when her eyes met enthusiastic green ones; the paint hid his meek smile. A lock of brown hair, untouched of the paint danced in the soft wind. He had a cute baby face, full smile and all. She got a lump in her throat when her eyes traced down to his strong throat, then his somewhat muscular build.

"G-Goodness, do all of your inventions result in this?" She asked, Henry's face heated up

"Yes"

"How forward" She said, looking at the white mess before her. She frowned at the white stained pansies, now dropping instead of swaying in the wind "I wanted to surprise mother and father with beautiful picket fences, and now…" Henry felt ashamed that his laziness brought him to this.

"…They'll be back in four hours" She continued

Henry hung his head

The lady picked up the paint brush lying on the ground; she spun it a few times. "I guess we'll have to fix things ourselves"

Henry looked at the lady in astonishment "Miss, I can fix this-"

She put up her hand "Dear me, no. I could use the exercise and I don't want you messing up again, besides two are better than one."

So the two of them began to finish the rest of the fence, the painted in silence until the picket fence was gleaming pearl white, the lady went to the hose and turned it on, she gave Henry the nozzle as he began to cleanse himself of the paint. Then the lady began to clean her backyard, spraying on the grass and more delicately at the flowers, sure enough it was back to its regular normal beauty.

The lady followed Henry out of the backyard; he was holding the remains of the machine in his arms. The sky was now in a nice shade or pink and purple, the sun was beginning to set.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble that I caused you Miss…"

"Miss. Carwight, but you may call be Charlotte"

Henry smiled "I'm Mr. Branwell, but you can call me Henry"

The lady smiled and went into the house; Henry began to walk home, holding the shredded parts of his device in his arms.

Maybe the machine did bring something good.

This isn't one of my best works, but oh well, it's an ok for me. Just heads up that most of Henry's inventions that I will write in the future will probably blow up, so…yeah….

Review/Comment please! Tell me what you think.