Journalistic Intentions

Running Stitch

PROMPT: fashion- running stitch

         

         

         

                   

Myrtle sighed and huffed out a less than quiet puff of air. After a moment she snuck a peek at her friend Hester seated next to her at the large quilting table. She sucked on a finger dabbed with bright red blood. How had that happened? Okay, the needle was sharp and had to be to pierce the many layers of cotton. Strange she'd not noticed the stabbing.

         Hester smiled in that contented way only an avid quilter could. Her nimble fingers wove in and out of the fabric stretched taut before them. Not once did she hesitate. Not once did her tiny stitches stray or vary in their uniform size. She's a human sewing machine marveled Myrtle.

         As if feeling the intense gaze on her skin, Hester asked, "Everything all right, pet? Do you fancy a wee break?"

         "I'm all thumbs today. Well, if I'm being honest, I'm always clumsy with a needle. I don't know how you do it. When I attempt a running stitch the thread bunches and snaps. Imagine my surprise following my needle. I swear it has a mind of its own, a contrary one. It just pops up wherever it wishes."

          "Sounds like you're more distracted than usual."

         "Give me a pencil or a pen to hold. I can control them. And they don't draw blood. Remind me why we're here again."

         Without missing a stitch, Hester glanced around the high-ceilinged recreation room. The steady thrum of conversations ebbed and flowed.

         "Oh, I believe you are fully cognizant. Great word for a former teacher, eh? I seem to remember Mildred dared you to become involved. She caught you pooh-poohing the weary woman's tiresome cliche of a hobby. As I recall, you said this was so tedious a chimp could and should do it."

         "I'd trade places with that monkey now. Perhaps I could admit to speaking hastily, but I'll deny it if Mildred finds out. I'm too old and proud to be eating crow."

         "Well dear you won't have to choke down any crow, although chicken is on tonight's menu. Last week's poultry was positively foul. Mildred scarfed down two helpings."

         Myrtle couldn't contain her explosive guffaw.

         "Isn't this stitch also called basting? That poor wizened bird sure needed some of that. I'm feeling a might peckish. Should I scrounge up some cookies?"

         "Oh no, they're not appropriate."

         "Since when is a wee biscuit inappropriate? Is this a sweat shop?"

         "Crumbs on the quilt are frowned upon."

         Out of the corner of her eye Myrtle noticed Mildred waving at her and beaming. A close-lipped grimace was sent in reply.

         "Did Mildred sew those Made With Love tags for the quilts?" queried Myrtle.

          Hester nodded.

         "It's a cute method of signing our handiwork."

         Myrtle grinned.

         "I left my unique signature on the underside, a running stitch of blood drops."

( 478 Words )