She wears a red ribbon in her hair on Wednesdays. Every day a different colour, but always red on Wednesdays. He imagines rituals, a lost love, secret messages. He could ask, but instead enjoys how his fingers itch. There’s something about the red that makes him want to undo her.
7 comments:
A rope can save your life
or be used to strangle you.
A rope can keep people out.
A rope can keep people in line
or stop a boat from floating out to sea.
She was tethered to that man
for too many years.
What she needed
was a buoy.
Sarah, I like that itch in his fingers and that 'undo'. Lovely. Tantalising.
D
Oh Kathryn, that's great! I love the double meanings here.
ANd thanks, D - I think it came from how I was longing to get through that rope myself! Funny how the places you can't go are always more interesting.
It was cordoned off, an unbroken ribbon of yellow and black plastic running all the way round the scene: two cars, made into one. Broken glass in the windows. The smell of oil. Blood, spilled on the road - at least Madeleine, this side of the ribbon, thought it could be.
She had a ribbon in the front of her dress. Red like Christmas. Tied in a bow. You can pull it if you like, she said. Gordie wanted to. It would untie then, and the dress fall open. He wanted to, but his fingers fumbled hopelessly with the knot.
Lovely, Douglas.
Love the imagery of the red ribbon and absolutely love the idea of undoing.
I am new to your blog and have been here a while now so I thought a comment was in order.
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