This story was written for Friday Fictioneers. Each week, Rochelle gives us an image and 100 words to tell a story. She also inspires us with a story of her own. This week’s image comes from Sandra Crook. Visit her site to see and hear about her wonderful work, and click on the blue frog below to read more stories that correspond to this prompt and to add your own.
Grandma’s sewing machine went to Rebecca. From the parlor corner, for years, the machine said: your problems are nothing, you’re soft, your life lacks a meter to march to.
It was only after the children moved out and her husband left that she heard the pedal’s squeak at night—the wheel’s whirring, the needle’s plunge. In bed, she heard it, sewing phantom clothes.
Every night, the same, until finally, Rebecca sat, foot on the pedal.
Make something, said a voice.
Rebecca felt an almost instant desperation. She would. She’d make, make, make, for the machine would never be satisfied.