Pinking Shears

Today’s Prompt from storyaday.org, by Julie Duffy, presented the challenge to write a story from the perspective of an inanimate object.

Once we sat in our packaging inside the shop, hopeful, until a kindly woman bought us and took us home. Shiny and new, we reveled in the joy of our labor, helping the woman to create beautiful works of wearable art. Conjoined twins we were, and one in purpose, though our movements always opposed each other. Until one day, we began to stick, our teeth snagging on the fabric threads. Our connection to each other– once so tight– began to loosen, and we wobbled in the old woman’s hand. We wished to cry out our apologies to her, to make her understand our grief at having become such a frustration to her; but while our maker had given us teeth, we had no voice. She returned us to our box, once a safe haven to protect us, but now– we feared– our coffin. Darkness fell, and that was years ago; we know not if or when we may ever see the light again.

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