An occasional series of flash, or sudden, or short-short fictions

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

Lizzy and Bel

It was something to do with numbers. The folded sheet looked like a tissue rather than a swan, as they had said it would. The sandwich was being made. Cheese, she hoped.
Lizzy was no help. She lay there on the bed, gazing. Her eyes did not blink. She did not offer suggestions. Bel unfolded the sheet and noticed that one of the creases looked like the lines on the palm of her hand. Soft, fuzzy. She had trouble in getting the edges of the paper to come together straight. She had to fold it again. The paper was square, now, but not sharp. The edge felt like cloth.
She waited for the call. Lizzy rested on the bed in her patterned green skin. Diamonds. If she turned the folded sheet, it looked like a diamond. Perhaps that was what it was after all. She could colour it in. But diamonds were clear. How can you colour in clear?
Four sides. Bel counted with her fingers. If she unfolded it, the sheet still had four sides. Shouldn’t there be more? But the two lines on the paper were a cross. She preferred the paper folded, so she carefully made it into a diamond again, the edges straight. After her sandwich, she would colour in the diamond with crayons. Blue.
Her Daddy called Bel. Her sandwich was ready. She was glad. Lizzy stayed on the bed. She didn’t mind.

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