No Fairytale

No Fairytale was shortlisted for the Scarlet Stiletto, Sisters in Crime competition in 2016. If I was to dedicate this story to anyone, it would be to the giant slayers; those that speak the truth, listen with their heart and seek justice for the abused, the violated and the forgotten.

Click on the link below to read this short story.

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Murder, Mayhem and Knitting

There are many things that took their toll on my health and sanity during my life, and so I had to give them up: gambling, booze, cigarettes, dope, promiscuous sex, and now knitting. I know it’s not going to be easy but it’s not like I’ve been knitting every day for years. In fact I’m a relatively new knitter, just a few months, but I’m suffering.

It all started when I felt guilty; and what recovering addict doesn’t feel guilty for the waste and destruction they inflict on themselves and others. I was watching a lot of mystery and crime shows on television, and that sustained act of passive self indulgence invoked the guilt that lies coiled like a serpent in my belly. It rared up and hissed its venomous self-hate at me. But I am no Li Ji, the snake slayer. The only way to appease it is to be a good and useful person, so I determined that I would knit rugs for young, old and cold people, while I watched my shows.

I am quite a proficient knitter, and thus began knitting squares with my leftover wool. However it wasn’t long before I was haunting the op-shops and haberdashery looking for 12 ply deals. I soon tired of having to sew the nine squares together, and moved onto knitting strips. But I wanted more. Could I fit a whole rug on a pair of needles? A rhetorical question because once you imagine it possible you try it, no matter what the cost. So my squares became a solitary unit of stripes.

To finish them off I crocheted the edges. And as I watched the pile strewn over the couch increase in number, I only wanted to make more. I named them: Death in Paradise, Poirot, Midsomer Murders, Dr Blake, Dalziel but I was running out of mysteries on the TV, so I visited the library and there it was, the penultimate Danish mystery; The Killing, twenty murderous hours of knitting.

And that’s what did it! Inflamed biceps, repetition strain injury, tendonitis, call it what you will, but unless I want to integrate a daily dose of anti-inflammatory drugs into my life I’m going to have to give up knitting.

How to assuage my guilt now? Of course I could just stop watching mysteries on the television and write them. Yes, I’ll do that. You can purchase one here.

http://www.freewebstore.org/Schatz-Blackrose/Fake/p892408_4059973.aspx

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