Feeling the yarns' soft touch made me feel like I was touching a cloud, the baby blue coloured ball got slightly smaller by each stitch my hook made. The smell of lemons and cool air started to spread across my room, the taste of victory on my tongue. Hearing the fan go back and forth, side to side. My hands feel like they're on fire, the aching pain spread across my fingertips to my palms while I gripped onto my hook and counted the stitches I've made in the hour. My hands paused, shaking slightly. I put my hook into a hole of the soft baby blue yarn and put it on my shelf. Looking down at my hands, they were a bright red from the fingertips to palms, the aching pain fading away in a few seconds.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
AcakJust some short stories, quick writes and poems I have wrote in my Creative writing class and during my freetime for practice
