Image : Pixabay
Never any bother.
That’s what the other kids’ parents used to say about Sally when she went round for tea.
She was only invited anywhere once. No, she wasn’t any bother, but her silence disturbed the parents who tried to involve her in conversations over homemade pasta and freshly squeezed juice, unnerving even those happy to ignore their children’s friends.
Even the other children found her unsettling, the girl who would rather watch a raindrop’s wayward path down a smutted window than play dress up with a new dolly. Rather watch the unsteady progress of a woodlouse crossing a rug than feel the unnerving thrill of Knock Down Ginger.
But that was years ago. Now she sits on the windowseat, feet curled beneath her, fingers straight on one hand, nobbled digits forming the warp as her hair forms the weft. Her own hand loom.
Plucking one silver strand from her scalp at a time, she threads them back and forth, the fabric growing a fraction at each pass.
The shadows were long when she started and they’re long now, but somehow another day is gone and all she has is moonlight falling on her silver gloved hand and a feeling that her hair is thinning and she isn’t sure why.
‘Never any bother,’ mumbles the nurse.
Written for Stephanie at Word Adventure’s #tuesdayuseitinasentence. The word today was LOOM. See here to read the other tales and to join in.
Word Shamble 
That’s kind of disturbing there, to put it mildly. Reminds me of my own occasional habit to pull on my hair, a cautionary tale I could be found frozen by the window muttering to myself, going bald. Not far from the truth.
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Ha! Thanks Bill. If you start weaving with it, then you need to worry 🙂
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The condition of self-soothing or control habit-ing by hair pulling is actually a recognised condition called trichotillomania and you can get help for it…. But on a fictional note this was sad and evocative, it’s almost like the myth of Penelope, except you’ve managed to create a ‘time lapse’ feel in a piece of writing. It feels very cinematic in that way. ~ P ~
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That sounds like the same sickness I have with editing, that’s making me go bald.
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Ah well, work it, that’s what I say.
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Or work ON it, rather. That’s why I mentioned it, Pink.
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🙂
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The joys of editing … Nice to reread something a few times, feel it shaping up. Then when it comes to proofing it for the umpteenth time … Argh!
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Thank you, Pola for your kind comment. Yes, a horrible condition, so distressing and hard to get through. Poor woman. Thanks for reading
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Terribly sad… and powerful and beautiful. Thank you for another amazing contribution Lynn 🙂 .
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My pleasure. Always fun to take part 🙂
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My hairs is falling out — guess I should have bought a hand loom years ago — thou folks do so say I’m a bit of a bother.
Great story!!!!
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I’m sure you’re only bother in a good way 🙂 Thank you, glad you liked it
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Such a fine line between a reflective introvert amazed by the natural world around her and something hinting at mental illness. Makes me sad that others rejected her because she was different, either way, and yet it doesn’t feel like a sad piece to me. She has her own little amusements that keep her occupied and fill up her days; why should she care that others don’t understand?
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Oh, and meant to say: very creative take on the word “loom”!
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Thank you 🙂
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Very true. Sometimes these things are only down to the perceptions of others anyway. There are a lot of eccentric people in the world who aren’t necessarily ill. Thanks for reading Joy 🙂
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