Each week @svashta gives us a different writing constraint for a short fiction story. This week’s constraint is: Write a story from the perspective of an inanimate object, but never tell us explicitly what it is. The story must be a minimum of 250 words.
I stay here each night, in the dark, waiting. The time seems to tick on slowly. Each passing moment longer than the one before. And I wonder what she does without me; how tired she must be. I wonder if she thinks of me; if she wonders how I am; if she thinks of me at all.
I’m not alone, she keeps me with my family, but without her I am empty. I am cold, and useless. My every reason for being is to serve her. Oh, how I wish she had more time in the day to hold me close. To feel her warm breath against me; her hands wrapped around me; grasping with desperate delight.
In the mornings, I can hear noises down the hall. I sit and wait and listen. I want to jump at the thought of her coming to see me, but I cannot move. If I knew how to count I would count the seconds, but I don’t have a handle on my math. Was it fifty seconds in a minute? I don’t remember.
Finally, I hear the water run outside my door. A sure sign she is getting closer. I can hear the cat meowing, trying to delay her from her visit. Be gone cat! Nope. She stopped to feed the beast. Why does she talk so sweetly to that animal? Does she not realize this feline takes her attention from me?
Oh, I hear her. But, she walks past again. I can hear the gurgle of the machine, so I know she will be here soon. But until she returns, I sit waiting. Now I’m nervous. What if she doesn’t pick me? I look around at my competition. There seems to be a full house today.
I hear her footsteps approaching; getting closer, and more distinct. Finally, I see the light. She glances my way, and I give her my most welcoming smile. I feel uplifted when she chooses me. She holds me tightly, so I don’t fall and sets me down gently. The warmth of her love fills me full, and I am complete again.
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