This week I have decided to pilfer from other blogs. I am going to use titles of other blog posts as my titles, and then write accordingly. I hope this does not make any author mad. If so, let me know.
From We Three Bitches (effecting a degrees of separation theme from last post of mine)
Naked Drawers
She stared hard, willing the image to stick to her brain, taking in the emptiness of the space, the faded-ness of the gingham contact paper lining, and the images, like transparent film, of what those drawers have held at different moments. She knew she did not have long. The men in the van just called to say they were around the corner, caught up in traffic.
Why did this feel melancholy? It was only a piece of furniture. A beat up tabby coloured chest of drawers, generic wood, whose mirror had never been found. She envisioned the replacement, trying not to slide in the back of the van. In contrast it had clean lines and warm fine, fine grained wood, with more space and a mirror. Say good bye to the chest that belonged to the little girl. With her clear and unencumbered view of the world. The stuffed bear that used to hide in the third drawer, the flower and lace socks; the mini bras. They disappeared eons ago. As did her mother from cancer. And her father from the pain of seeing his wife die.
It was time for her to live and if she could not move somewhere, she could move the things around her. She stood there for a moment. Listening to her breath, one, two. She could hear the sound of her fingerprint sliding over the edge of the top drawer. Three, the door buzzer sounded, and she turned her back on the chest to go answer the door.
From We Three Bitches (effecting a degrees of separation theme from last post of mine)
Naked Drawers
She stared hard, willing the image to stick to her brain, taking in the emptiness of the space, the faded-ness of the gingham contact paper lining, and the images, like transparent film, of what those drawers have held at different moments. She knew she did not have long. The men in the van just called to say they were around the corner, caught up in traffic.
Why did this feel melancholy? It was only a piece of furniture. A beat up tabby coloured chest of drawers, generic wood, whose mirror had never been found. She envisioned the replacement, trying not to slide in the back of the van. In contrast it had clean lines and warm fine, fine grained wood, with more space and a mirror. Say good bye to the chest that belonged to the little girl. With her clear and unencumbered view of the world. The stuffed bear that used to hide in the third drawer, the flower and lace socks; the mini bras. They disappeared eons ago. As did her mother from cancer. And her father from the pain of seeing his wife die.
It was time for her to live and if she could not move somewhere, she could move the things around her. She stood there for a moment. Listening to her breath, one, two. She could hear the sound of her fingerprint sliding over the edge of the top drawer. Three, the door buzzer sounded, and she turned her back on the chest to go answer the door.
posted by miss goLondon at 3:24 PM
2 Comments:
This sounds like the beginning or the end of something. I think its a great idea to take the title from another blog...
Was this piece inspired by the two words 'Naked Drawers' and then it just flowed or was it something you had planned? What I mean did the words just flow like an improvisation (I sound like a w***er on The Culture Show, now!)
Mental Note: 'Shut up!'
stop being like me - too hard on yourself. i thought this morning i would challenge myself and take posts from other's titles..you are coming up soon. then i started flicking onto blogs, thought naked drawers had potential. then just started writing. thus, little planning. i am such a virgo planner maven, don't know what life would be like in the absence of a skeletal plan...it's just a mini short story. purely fiction.
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