Long Reads, Short Stories & Flash Fiction
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A Girl Called Spider

 

a_girl_called_spider_by_parchmentgirl-d6askux

(Drawing by Antonia Brennan)

She sat smoking three seats away from the door, cigarette pinched between black talons as she waited for the boy in a green apron to bring her coffee.

“There is something of the devil about that one.” whispered an old woman standing in line. She leant in so her companion could hear. “Something unnatural.” she said.

The pair twisted to stare; peering over round spectacles to examine the girl in black leather and brass buckles.

“Very unnatural.” hissed the old woman’s companion. “Not the right sort at all!”

The girl sighed, pouring the smoke from her lips. She smiled at the old women and stabbed out the cigarette on the table-top.

“Problem ladies?” she asked.

“This is a no smoking zone!” squawked the first, pointing a shrivelling, stumpy finger at the no smoking sign just beside the door. “You are no suppose to smoke that,” she pointed at the crushed cigarette, “in here.”

The girl smiled again, teeth bone white against ebony gloss.

“I must have missed the sign.” she said, curling her lips back further.

The old women clucked.

“Smoking in public places is banned completely!” said the second, shuffling her shoulder and readjusting the fold of her collar. “Do you not watch the news?” she demanded.

“Not partially.” replied the girl. “It’s always so depressing. All that death.”

She winked, still smiling as the boy in the green apron scurried over to her table, miniature coffee cup balanced on his tray.

“Double espresso?” he asked, trembling as the girl lifting an arm to pluck up the drink.

“Exactly what I need.” she purred, eyes trained on the boy’s face.

He blushed, stepped back and tripped over a table leg.

The old women watched him fall, hands clasped to mouths as they cooed sympathetically. The girl laughed, the sound spilling into the room like ice. The boy shivered as he scrambled to his feet.

“The poor lamb.” said the first old woman, placing a hand over her heart.

“The poor dear.” added the second.

“Fool.” said the girl. She threw back the espresso and stood. “But just what I need.”

“Need?” stammered the boy.

“Yes, need.” repeated the girl. “I need a little amusement in my life. I suppose you could say I’m recovering from a bad break-up of sorts.”

It wasn’t a complete lie of course. The boy had broken when he hit the street sixty-six stories below.

She stepped forward, closer to the boy in the green apron holding the empty tray.

“Call me Spider.” she said.

This entry was posted in: Long Reads, Short Stories & Flash Fiction

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Carol Forrester is a twenty-three year old writer trying to be a better one. Don’t ask her what her hobbies are because the list doesn’t get much beyond, reading, writing and talking about the same. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University and various poems and stories scattered across the net. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry’s. Most recently, her poem ‘Sunsets’ was featured on Eyes Plus Words, and her personal blog Writing and Works hosts a mass of writing from across the last five years. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and is always open to writing more and hosting guest bloggers here on Writing and Works. With hopes of publishing a novel in the next five years and perhaps a collection or two of smaller works, Carol Forrester is nothing if not ambitious. Her writing tries to cover every theme in human life and a lot of her work pulls inspiration from her own eccentric family in the rural wonders of Shropshire life.

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