Flow

Flowing our writings:   with pieces stolen, borrowed and copied from friends in the turret. With thanks to Jill, Lynn, Claire, Claudia, Julia, and Val.  Magical evening...

“Why, the old dears of the parish haven’t had so much to talk about for years,” Eleanor said, picking her cuticles.

“Really?  What happened?” Vi prompted with a poke in the ribs as the train hurtled down the tracks to Brighton.

“Well, you know these teenagers of untamed temperament…all snuggled together like cats in a basket one moment…and the next…” Eleanor paused, rolling her eyes. “Well.  Right out there in the park, I’ll tell you!”

“Really? What happened?”

“Ah, well.  It was Sunday’s bonfire, just after the sun had winked its last golden eye of the day, and they were at it!  Even down in the watercress and daisies!” Eleanor coughed, an ugly crackling sound in her chest and throat.

“Really? I can’t believe it.  I can just imagine the old dears’ faces, looking to see if this was a day for smiling.”

“Oh, no.  No smiling for them! It was leggy here, chrome handlebar there, spitting bonfire, alcohol…repulsive thing that sends children’s smiles devilish.” Ignoring the signs everywhere, Eleanor lit a cigarette and blew out a long plume of blue-grey smoke through pencil-thin red lips.

“Really?” With a nervous giggle, Vi wrapped her arms around her saggy breasts.  “An then?”

Another cough. “That’s when the strumpet performed.  Letting everyone rip off her clothes, piece by piece.” Vi gasped as Eleanor took a long drag. “Oh yes, they saw it all. Until she was standing there as naked as unctuous incarnate, breaking every law…daring every convention of human decency.  Slut!” With a final puff, she stamed out her cigarette and pushed it over to where a pierced youth snored against the window.

"Really..." Arms still tight over her chest, Vi pinched her wrinkled nipples in secret, remembering how it had killed her soul but paid the bills.