The Fabric Girl

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The Fabric Girl

There was never so lonely a child as she. The fabric girl, I called her because her eyes must have been stitched together to not see what he did to her, to them.

That was a lifetime ago. I was young then and understood less than I should’ve. In adulthood, I’ve known her by the same name, but not for the reasons of youth. Age teaches one wisdom where once there was haste.

The truth was, she held them together in her tight-lipped way like the thread on your trousers or chord on your curtains. She took the beatings and bad words and sewed them into her complicated mosaic called life. She was a seamstress that girl, the best there’s ever been. She had to be, for a loose thread would’ve doomed them all.

The strongest person I’ve ever known, the stubbornest of the stubborn, that little girl with straw hair and skin like a ghost has drifted through my every thought. I’ve regretted not having told her, hers was a name born not from mockery, but admiration. The fabric girl’s still stitched into my soul.

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17 thoughts on “The Fabric Girl

  1. Unfortunately there are many a strong woman held fast by fear. Lives sewn together with cobwebs, cobwebs that they believe are barbed wire. A strong post written upon this page. Merry Christmas.

  2. What an apt title for this girl in your memories. Your writing is haunting me too. I hope she’s found a happier life by now. Thanks for reminding us that some of us still desperately need this meaning of Christmas.

  3. Wow Richard. This is lovely and so sad. You are amazing! I don’t know how you do it, but so often, when I read your work, once I’m done, it hits me right in the chest and all I can do is say “wow”….. Not poetic. But you take my breath away!

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