Scribblings

Just a collection of various stories I began with no intention to finish, or answers to writing prompts. Enjoy! Please visit my author page on FB! facebook.com/author.anrisaryn Also note, some of these may be removed later if I feel the urge to expand on them!

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18. Threads

 

          "String."
          The thread wound itself around her finger as if it had a mind of its own. It wound, around and around, lightly gripping her digit as if it needed to hold on.
          "What shall I do with you?"
          The thread responded by jumping a little. The spool rolled its way across the table, leaving more and more free. 
          The girl picked it up looking at the brightly colored thread.
          "Can you," she began, "repair this?"
          She put down the spool and nonchalantly picked up an old, dirty sock. It was gray in color, and seemed to have once been white, or something similar. A large hole gaped where the large toe would fit.
    The thread seemed to nod and instantly lept off her finger, piercing the old cloth, and winding in and out in a sewing motion.
          In seconds, the sock fell to the table. The thread knotted itself, snapped, and withdrew, leaving an old gray sock with bright red thread neatly sewn into it.
          "Fascinating."
          The girl picked it up and inspected it. It looked professionally done.
          With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the thread. It wound about the spool once more, rolling up neat and tight.
          Leaving the sock where it was, the girl stood up, the chair making a scraping sound against the stone floor. She paced toward the window, running her fingers along the wall. Placing her hands on the soft curtains, she inspected them curiously. 
          "Only 15% silk," she commented, her fingers drifting along the cloth. The small tendrils of material leaped out, trying to grasp her fingers. "How disappointing."
          She pulled her hand away slowly, dragging a handful of the excited threads with her. The clung, almost desperately to her thin fingers.
          "What would you like to be?" she asked, forming soft white shapes with the freed cloth. "What would you like to be?"

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