Some of my Reider community friends will have recognized the reason I posted the somewhat random thoughts on Pelelope on Friday. For my first time, I've entered one of Janet Reid's flash fiction contests. The prompt words were:
pinch
nick
lift
rob
filch
As a rule, these contests overwhelm me and I shut down and can't even contemplate entering. This time, I decided to take the plunge. Here is the result (a third try; I am tempted to share the first two I wrote and scrapped) ...
***
When had it shifted – from being impossible to see aught but the end of waiting, to being impossible to believe there was an end?
When she’d been robbed. When she’d gained weight and stopped holding in her stomach, when her skin had begun to crepe. When her mouth had become pinched, her brows ever harder to lift out of hatchet-faced gloom.
When the nick of the needle, as she sewed the never-ending shroud, had been pain not worth itself. When she found she wanted to be taken as easily as a pickpocket might filch a stranger’s gold.
Damn Odysseus.
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