Knitting Fiction

She made The Mistake five years earlier. She learned of it when he carried her across the threshold and stood her in the arctic entry and she still in her full wedding regalia. The first blow landed on her left cheekbone because he is right-fisted. A few inches in one direction would have fractured her […]

Living with him these past five years has taught her that Aunt Irene’s assessment of him is correct. He is wily enough to stay out of prison—but just barely. He is manipulative enough to earn some salesmen awards at the car dealership, but not smart enough to work his way up into management. He could […]

Irene painstakingly cleans the meat hammer. Her Aunt Irene taught her how to use dish soap and a brush on the weighted aluminum, without letting any soap touch the ancient wooden handle. She places it upright, into the old stoneware crock that Aunt Irene willed to her, together with wooden spoons, pestle and knife sharpener. […]

 Deborah buys the yarn on the day of her diagnosis. It is the most expensive yarn she has ever bought; even wholesale and un-dyed, it is $150 for ten skeins; and that's not counting the cost of shipping to Alaska. But the cost must be borne because it is the perfect yarn for her project. […]

 Deborah changes her mind. She can do that. She has the ability to aim her mind where she chooses. If asked, she’d tell you it’s a gift, like her good head of hair and her show girl legs. And now she has decided to change her mind. She will stop thinking about Brave New World […]

  Once again Deborah is in a backwards hospital gown. But this time she is unable to completely close the gown. She holds the edges together. One hand above, and one hand below the two wires, each about six inches long, that protrude from her left breast. Deeper even than pain, is her shame. She […]

CHAPTER 8: Deborah, Dye Day Deborah is sleeping. She lies on her back. Her mother, warm and solid, lies in the bed beside her, and facing her so that mother can watch over sleeping daughter.  Deborah keeps herself quiet and does not open her eyes. She allows herself the pleasure of knowing she is being […]

Deborah sinks down and heavy into the shop’s recliner. Her right hand makes an empty swipe for a handle that is not there. She reminds herself that this is not her home recliner. She places her hands on the arms of the chair, and with all of her strength, pushes back, forcing the back of […]

She turns her head so violently to the left that you’d think her eye ball had been snagged by a size G crochet hook. She stops in her tracks. Around her the early morning coffee shop is humming. Conversationalists are leaning toward each other across tables. Students, writers, and dawdlers, each seated alone, are geared […]