My attempt of beginning of short story

george-booth-an-elderly-woman-sitting-at-the-dinner-table-using-her-spoon-to-catapault-new-yorker-cartoon

The old lady sat fidgeting in the seat at her old rickety kitchen table!! For some reason her nerves were more shot than usual and she couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. She kept clutching at her withered hands in anticipation as she wrestled with her anxious mind.
She woke this morning so abruptly that her tired legs were shaking uncontrollably when she tried to ease herself out of bed. Looking back at her sheets before she attempted the agony of trying to coax a weary and beat body out bed, she notices that they are soaked from sweat.

Her body was not at all cooperative this morning and her mind began to race the minute her eyes focused on the light from her window! Every bone in her body creaked as she fumbled to get in a position that would allow her to get up successful and her joints felt like they were un-oiled hinges.

Her senses were working in over drive and she had a distinct feeling that something bad was going to happen, but she could not determine what or why. As much as she tried to ignore her instincts, she knew that they could not be ignored.
Once she had steadied herself enough to trust her body to not collapse under her legs, she grabbed onto her cane and slowly made her way to kitchen to take what she referred to as her “daily dose of reality” with her favorite morning tea. She slowly and cautiously eased herself into her favorite old, second hand chair that faced out the window to a neglected back yard.

Once she was seated carefully she reached toward her cocktail of medications stored in her green medicine container, took a deep breath and started fumbling with the flip tops. Her arthritic fingers stumbling as her hands begin to shake and her heart starts to beat rapidly in her chest. After 10 long minutes, she is able to finally open lids and begins her routine of sorting out her tablets according to size – she always starts with the smallest ones first as it is easier to psych herself up to handle the larger tablets.

While the old woman sat taking her medication, she could hear the wind howling and shaking her old window panes. The wind seemed more fierce than usual tonight and she could swear there were cries being carried through the air.
All of a sudden a chill seemed to overtake her and she reached for her shawl.

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “My attempt of beginning of short story

  1. Pingback: My attempt of beginning of short story | Melonie's Poetic Life

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