Am totally and completely immersed in new project.
Like a new love affair.
Not much room for anything else.
Hence no inspiration for today’s post.
Lay on my bed (Works for Rod?)
Thought of posting first chapter of new WIP?
Then thought against it.
Decided to post a flash fiction piece so you would have something to read.
And not disjointed like this drivel.
Challenge was to write a story in less than 250 words using the word ‘skinny.’
I love flashing.
(Don’t be rude)
This one is called “Skinny Genes”
I peer around the curtain. Sarah, who should be out there now, giggles and wobbles on her platforms. She’s been on the Veuve. I point her in the right direction and off she trots.
Showtime. My dresser is a rotund motherly figure who looks nothing like my own mother. Her greying hair holds a medley of spare clips on one side. A pin cushion sits on her ample bosom.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asks, her eyes locking mine.
‘You need to eat. Here.’ She offers a sandwich with a creamy mixture that smells fishy. Tuna, sweetcorn and mayo I decide, ignoring the saliva gathering in my mouth. I stare at it, then wait. Tiny little maggots, white wriggly ones appear in the oily filling. I push it away.
‘You’ll get brittle bones and never be able to have children,’ she shakes her head.
I laugh as she pulls the corset stays, tight, like she’s making a point.
My pony walk perfect, I head down the runway. Flashbulbs. My mother smiles from the first row, though not at me. She looks good, her natural skinny genes aided and abetted by Harley Street’s scalpels. The swarovski crystals on my corset glitter like a mirror ball. I am dazzled. As my mind fills with flesh eating maggots, I seek her out again. Mum? Mummy? She stands up as I fall down. The last thing I see before blackout is her white skinny jeans.