There Was an Old Woman

UPDATE: I made some small edits before I entered this into a writing contest over at Writer's Digest. (Wahoo!!) I edited the loaves part to make better sense and I changed what she thinks to herself as everyone gathers for breakfast. :) I also changed the title to "Thirteen Little Things" when I turned it in because I figured "There Was an Old Woman" was slightly cliche. It was the inspiration for the story, but it gives it away to quickly, I thought. Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments! ;)

The barely-pink of a new day began to light the sky through the curtain-less window at the end of the bed. Her old bones creaked louder than the bed as she slowly rolled out onto her knees.

"Please, God, bless them," was all she said out loud though her thoughts swirled around each face that now lay sleeping on the other sides of the walls. Stiffly, she dressed as her muscles remembered movements from a few short hours ago. Her cotton dress and apron where very thin between the patches and she could feel the floor through her shoes. She had just swooped the last flying hair into her bun before she heard the first bare footsteps hurrying down the hall to the bathroom.

'Must be Eric, bladder the size of a flea,' she thought with a smile as she creaked open the door and stepped out into the hall. A glance to her left affirmed her suspicion and she closed the bathroom door on her way by. Little boys had no time for closing doors.

"Mornin' Sam," she greeted the wispy boy already sitting at the long table in the kitchen. "What's two and two?"

Bright eyes beamed as he puffed out his chest and answered, "Four, Ma'am!"

She chuckled as she ruffled his hair. "Good. Please go and get that many loaves of bread out of the pantry." Sam jumped off the bench and ducked into the pantry, narrowly missing a collision with a troupe of 3 girls coming around the corner. "Good morning, Ma'am!" they chorused with a triple curtsy.

"Good morning, Lizzie, Alma and Beth. Please go out and gather the eggs." They gave each other their best 'that's what I hoped she'd say' winks and skipped synchronously out the kitchen door. She turned and nearly trod on Sam who was already carefully lining up crisp brown bread loaves onto the cutting board. She folded her arms across her ample frame and fixed him sternly in her sights.

"Count the loaves, Samuel."

"One - two - three - four ... and a half!" he grinned with three teeth missing, pointing at the fifth loaf. "We always just want a little bit more," he said, trying to melt her will with his wide, pleading eyes.

"I know, I know," she said softly as she removed the fifth loaf and placed it back into the pantry.

"Mine!" “Nuh-uh, 's mine!" "I ain't givin' it back!" Two quarreling voices stopped short at the look on her face. Hands on hips, she did not release their gaze until Tilly said, "Sorry, Ma'am" and Thomas echoed reluctantly. She held out her hand and a chipped marble was placed there solemnly.

"I'll keep this safe until we can remember how to share, shall I?" Two downturned heads nodded and sluffed their way to the table.

By now, the fire in the stove had been resurrected and a tall, stringy haired girl named Marie was stirring the eggs into a frothy, steamy mound. Her twin sister, Anne was carefully slicing the bread into thin, but not too thin, slices. The giggling egg-gathering trio were dancing around the table placing plates, forks and cups right next to each other all around the long dining table.

A matched set of four tow-headed boys then tramped in from outside and lined up to use the wash basin. The tallest finished his face and as he passed on the towel, he said, "Goats mucked and fed." The next tallest repeated the routine saying, "Chickens fed and watered." Next in line said, "Garden watered." And the last shiny face said, "Porch swept."

"Thank'ee, boys," she said with a grin as she ruffled the hair of William, Seth, Billy and Willy. As more sleepy heads joined the crew and they all squeezed in around the table, they clasped their hands for prayer. She thought to herself, as she did every morning, "The littlest things really are the big things in the end."

As they bowed their heads, a young woman stood on the front porch under the hand painted sign that read 'Orphanage' with a wriggling bundle in her arms. The children all looked up in surprise when they heard the bell ring. But not Sadie Eloise Wickersham. She just smiled. For she had so many children, she knew exactly what to do.

Sandy

Sandy tiptoed lightly in the almost-dark. The surface felt hard and flat like a rock, but it didn’t suck the heat from her feet. It looked brown like a tree, but there was no bark. Moonlight filtered into the room through a humongous square hole in the wall between the floor and the ceiling. Everything here was so square, such sharp angles, nothing like what she was used to. There was only silence as her tiny feet tipped on their toes around the corner of a tall wall with writing on it, then she stopped short. There it was! The source of the mouthwatering smell she had been following in the crisp fall air outside this place.


Like everything around here, it was gigantic and the aroma this close was almost overpowering. Sandy’s mouth watered so much she had to run her finger under her lip to keep it from escaping. If you could put a mirror in front of her face right now, she would have been lost to a fit of giggles at what she called her “Awe-ful face,” the one that is full of awe. Her eyes were round and her mouth hung open, stretching out the ever-present dimples in her plump, rosy cheeks. Her hands clasped under her chin, she slowly tip toed forward, still listening to the silence for any sign of life. Her round, jaw-hanging face slowly morphed as she considered the delicious smelling thing. Her lips came together and cocked to one side, making one dimple deeper than the other and her eyebrows pushed together and lowered toward her be-freckled button nose.
“Why does it smell like apples if it doesn’t look like apples?” she wondered to herself.


She stretched out a finger and touched a rough, crackle-y, crumble-y edge. For being as big as a pond and smelling so delicious, it sure wasn’t very pretty. Moonlight washes the color from things, but come on, this thing must not have had much color to begin with! The edge was darker than the middle, though both were bumpy. The middle had soft bumps like small hills and valleys on a grass covered knoll. The edge was harder and sharper looking like the rocks she had seen layered in the mountains. Then a faint glisten caught her eye. In the middle, there were small cracks that glistened in the moonlight. At first, Sandy thought there was only one, but she soon noticed quite a few of them in a pattern. That had to be how the wonderful smell got out! Before you can say boo, Sandy was hovering over one of the cracks stretching out a finger. When the finger hit her tongue, she immediately plunged her whole hand up to her wrist into the hole and scooped out a big, dripping glob. She opened and closed her mouth and used her tongue as if she were eating a big blob of ice cream. It was sweet and spicy and although she couldn’t see what apples had to do with anything, this yummy sauce would taste wonderful with some! Suddenly, it dawned on her. The bumps! They must be chunks of apples! She had never seen chunks so big, but after all, an apple could feed her entire family for a week or more, one scoop at a time.


Without thinking, she plunged her arms in up to her elbows on either side of a nearby bump. She dug down into the sweet goodness and grabbed hold of the slippery underneath side of an apple. She pulled and sat down hard when her hands slipped up the gooey sides and sucked out of the crusty lid holding down the apple. Sandy giggled out loud and then smacked a gooey hand over her mouth. She sat still and listened, but she didn’t hear any movement. She stood now with her hands on her hips considering the reluctant bump. Trying to keep the goo to skin ratio at a minimum, she opted to use her heel to crack the crusty lid all the way around the bump. She kicked her heel down and tried to stop it before she went feet first into a pond of goo. She considered herself successful when only the bottom and not the sides of her silk slippers were gooey. She put both hands under the now miniature lid and threw her weight against it to get it to tip and fall to one side. There before her was a chunk of apple bigger than her head, covered in thick, speckled goo. She knew it must be heavy and the goo would not help in getting this odd shaped object away from its friends. She could see now that the whole thing was full of huge chunks of apples swimming in speckled goo. The words “give up” never occur to Sandy. She squatted down and lifted an edge slowly towards the surface. Panting and blowing stray hair out of her face, she didn’t quit until she heaved the huge chunk out and up.


Just then, she heard shuffling coming from the other room. “What have I done?” she thought, alarmed. “They’ll see!” She paused for a moment too long as she considered if she had time to heave the apple chunk back into its hole and put the lid back. Just then, the door knob across the room clicked and Sandy felt panic rise into her throat. She jumped and flew for the open window that was now streaked with pink and orange announcing the sun. She kept her eyes on the door as it cracked open and a head just taller than the door knob peeked out. Just a glimmer of recognition flashed across the small big-person’s face before her hand shot up to her eyebrows as the rising sun cleared the window sill and sent a ray to fill the room with light. Sandy counted on the sun to erase her memory from the face she had seen peeking out between the door. She looked back only to wince as the person poked at the apple Sandy had left on top and then she had to dodge behind a leaf as the girl’s eyes darted to the window with wonder. “Whew!” Sandy brushed the hair hanging in her face back with the rest before she realized that she was still sticky. She rolled her eyes as she turned on one heel and stalked along the branch she had alighted upon.


It wasn’t as if she wasn’t old enough to be out exploring all night by herself if she wanted to, but now she’d be tired and people would ask her questions.


Tell me in your comment what you saw happening in this practice piece. :)

Mechanically Declined

Okay, computer, I'm ready to type. Let's start with my name. D - I -

Where did this kid come from? I have computer chips designed by geniuses an she's spelling her name with one finger. What's the human mind coming to? I bet I could access a million bytes of information in the time it takes to spell her name. If all humans are this way I'm glad I'm a computer.

I'm done typing. Now, where is that darn spell check? I know there's one somewhere. I'll try looking under "help."

I swear she's going to wear out my help. I think I've told her where the spell check is just about every time she plops herself down in front of me. Try looking under "edit," Swifty. It's always there, it's not like it moves as soon as you shut me off. It's a good thing for her I can help her with some of her problems.

Oh, there it is! I think it moves every time I try to find it. Okay, now I want to print a copy. Now I need to print. Print... Hmmm...

Here, I'll be merciful. Here's your stupid paper. A half of a page? What kind of moron takes an hour to write a half of a page?! You, I guess. You know, they invented computers simple enough for people like you, but they've since been mummified in the back of some storage room in the basement of an abandoned warehouse in Mississippi.

Well, nighty, night computer. Thanks for your help. See you tomorrow.

I think I'm getting debugged tomorrow.

written circa 1995 by Diana Lee