Stitches
It was October; Natalie’s favorite month of the year. She loved the rainbow of autumnal colors that sprinkled past her bedroom window when the wind blew. Halloween was her favorite holiday. Ever since she was a little girl, she sewed herself a costume. She took great care in her work and didn’t give up until the garment looked exactly like her design, down to the last stitch.
Natalie was 14 years old and in the 7th grade at Walden Hieghts Middle School. She was an outstanding student. Beloved by her teachers and a leader to her peers. Natalie prided herself on nearly perfect attendence and consistent “straight-A” status. Natalie always completed her assignments ahead of time, never procrastinating like so many of her classmates. Natalie put her schoolwork ahead of her numerous extracurricular activities and never went to bed at night before her homework was done. At least, not before October 30.
It was 5:30 on a Thursday night, just more day until Natalie could go out trick-ortreating with her friends and show off her new costume. She was feverishly trying to finish hemming the bottom of her Scarlett-Ohara—inspired dress. The authentic curtain material made the sewing machine hum and purr louder as the needle strained to sew the fabric together. Uncharacteristically, Natalie had not yet completed her homework. She wanted desperately to finish her dress before Halloween night—so she decided her English paper could wait until after she was done.
Natalie had known about the assignment since Tuesday of that week, but had been to busy with her costume to start it. She had thought about what she would write about, though, and had trouble thinking up any idea for a story. Her teacher, Mrs. Hart, told the class they had to incorporate 15 elements into a creative story. The elements were: furniture, a barrier, the floor, a whisper, a diologue of 6 words or less, a diologue of 10 words or more, a gesture, a texture, a description of the weather, a noise, a window, something smaller than a hand, an reference to a current event, a question, an allegory, and a human hand. Natalie’s strong suit was not her creative writing and so this assignment was frustrating. When she wouldn’t come up with a plot for the story right away, she chose to put it aside and come back to it later.
When she sat down at her mother’s old Singer, she rested her right foot on the pedal as always and shifted the fabric so her chalk markings were visible just beyond the guide. She was short on pins, so she leened over the machine to reach into the old wooden sewing box for the pin cushion when her foot slipped.
Her small, narrow fingers were suddenly trapped beneath the throbbing needle. With each pierce, there was an accompanying scream from Natalie. She came to her senses and released her foot from the pedal with a jerk. The needle, while motionless, was still imbedded in Natalie’s now red and dripping index finger.
Natalie’s mother, Nadene, rushed into the room—fearing the worst. Like any loving mom would, Nadene calmed her daughter down best she could and slid the needle from her finger.
Unfortunutly, Natalie got made a few stitches that day she didn’t want. Nadene rushed Natalie to the hospital, where they had to perform a minor surgery to dig out the bits of forest green thread in her finger. Her finger nail was perforated and as bumpy as a cheese grater. In time, these wounds would heel. Not in time for the greatly anticipated holiday—and not in time to write her story.
Over the weekend, Natalie had the opportunity to make up the school-work she had missed. She considered what to write her story on for some time before thinking of a great idea. She titled her piece, Stiches.
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