Standing in the bookshop, pondering the large number of pregnancy books displayed on the shelves before me, I felt overwhelmed and dizzy. My cheeks burned and my hands trembled. The elderly woman standing a few feet away from me noticed my panicked state. She cocked her head slightly and, without looking me in the eye, pushed a stool towards me. I sat down, put my head between my knees, and wept. She knelt on the floor beside me, whispering “Don’t buy into those books, my darling. Read only fiction, for only there will you find the answers which you seek.”
Writing one hundred words (EXACTLY one hundred) is strangely addictive. I do however promise that this will be the last in the pregnancy series. Enough already Eleanor. Enough.
5 comments:
This felt strangely familiar. Next time I'll be the old woman.
I have yet to leave a comment, and for that I'm sorry. I've loved reading your 100 words. And truly, they amaze me. You have such a creative mind--such an original way of seeing the world. You make it seem so easy, Eleanor, when in reality it's most certainly not. I covet your ability to write.
Of course, now I'm wishing you WERE pregnant. Maybe you'd name the baby after me? Maybe? Wouldn't that make this whole blogging thing all the more special? I think so.
Sigh.
I love your 100 words series too..
Eleanor Mary has a lovely ring to it..
You guys crack me up!
I think Anna hit the nail on the head...something has been bothering me about this set of 100 words and now I see what it is. I wrote it from the point of view of the young woman, when my own point of view is in fact that of the old lady! Huge light-bulb moment here!
I think that Eurolush Mary or Mary Eurolush will have to be my grand-daughter. I will nickname her Eumee or maybe Malu. Perfect.
Strange commentbox this one.
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