The circus rolled into town one night. Forty-eight hours later, it left carrying me with it. Sitting on a velvet sofa. Sewing sequins on Queen Paulina’s gown. Laughing at Tootsie’s joke about a talking dog.
None of this was planned, but Harry died the day before and changed everything. I buried him under the porch with the other bodies. He’d gotten so thin that his sagging skin didn’t fill the shoebox. A pity that a noble feline could look inconsequential.
While I stared at death in a box, fear oozed through my Dr. Scholls, rolled over my potbelly and punched my heart already weakened by an embarrassing CPR episode at Jiffy Lube and heartbreak when a man I loved died on a family vacation that never included me. Doc said my troubles came from excess fat and sugar. If so, why does life feel so rawboned?
Mr. Stinnette saw my forlorn face and fresh dirt on my britches and leaned across the fence. “That Harry you done buried? Ain’t he number six under there?” I nodded. Grief is a crippler.
That night I shuffled from room to room studying yellowed photographs like they held the secret to the destiny I’d disappointed and, for comfort, I fingered the silver thimble in my apron pocket. Thirty-nine years I sewed pink tulle and pearls for Miss Floyd’s baby ballerinas. Then she died and that was that.
I was pacing like a caged soul when a lone train whistle called me to the stoop where I watched it clack by and heard an elephant trumpet. I forgot the circus was coming to town! I always wanted to see a circus arrive and plant magic while people slept. Through the trees I saw spotlights on soaring poles as two- and four-legged creatures spilled out like aliens landing on my planet. Banners were staked. Sawdust spread on the ground. Tattooed arms raised a painted tent that covered the universe.
“Ma’am, watch that rope.” The burly man’s tee-shirt barely covered his belly but his voice was kind.
“Where you hail from, young man?” I moved back and to the left.
“Everywhere and anywhere in between.” His grin revealed a missing tooth. “Last stop was Lynchburg and before that Harrisonburg. I guess my hometown is a rolling train.”
“Well I’m from here, but you would’a guessed that.” I sidestepped again to make way for a man with a monkey on his shoulder. The monkey winked and I added as an afterthought, “But I’m pretty tired of here.”
Then a striking Amazon with heaving breasts stormed out of her railcar with “Princess Paulina” in purple sparkles arched on its side. On her heels followed a penitent giant of a man. As she gulped space with her strides, she shook a sequined gown to the heavens.
“What were you thinking, you blundering Neanderthal? You squeezed your fat ass into my dress and ruined it!” She threw the gown down and blew past. No one paid attention to her hysterics except me and the giant.
I bent and picked up her dress, and that was that.
Leah Weiss began her writing career as a contributing writer for a local magazine. She writes short stories, memoires and novels. Her work has been accepted in The Simple Life, Deep South Magazine and Blue Lake Review. She has written a book of short stories and completed a novel. The opening chapter won first prize in a national contest.
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19 Responses to “A THIMBLE FOR A LIFELINE • by Leah Weiss”
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February 1st, 2012 at 2:30 am
Excellent piece of flash and a very enjoyable read. I was hooked from beginning to end, wanting to know what made her join the circus on an apparent whim.
February 1st, 2012 at 4:32 am
Dissatified by loss of pets and people, the young lady turns to the circus with its thick ropes, bright lights, lumbering elephants, and sequined stars. She draws us in because we’ve been where she is, excited by the circus and its charaters, escaping from the drudgery of our existence. A fascinating story Leah.
February 1st, 2012 at 4:48 am
I grieve for Harry, I dismiss married-boyfriend to heaven or hell with scorn, I’m ready to join the circus. The author placed me firmly in her protagonist’s plump, aging body, and the most surprising thing about that is, we don’t even know the protag’s first name. Superb.
February 1st, 2012 at 4:50 am
I thought this was a bit all over the place. An enjoyable enough piece of flash, however.
February 1st, 2012 at 5:20 am
Wow, what a brave heroine. Loved the dialogue, felt natural. Like I was right there beside her. Will look for more of this author.
O.k., have figure out what makes me jealous about this piece. The whole idea. A seamstress for the circus. Sounds easy enough but I wonder what made the author think of this.
February 1st, 2012 at 5:26 am
I enjoyed the piece. I don’t know why you felt that the MC burying her cat was too weak to open with. I thought that the natural timeline flow would’ve been more effective, just ‘home-to-leaving with the circus’. However, that nit-pick aside, still a good tale. I look forward to reading more from this author.
February 1st, 2012 at 5:33 am
Very, very nice — loved the voice. I felt immediately connected with, and invested in, the main character. Excellent job painting sweeping emotional content with just a few quick dabs of the brush.
Also really liked the quirky side characters, so deftly created in such few words (although I did have one question: Is ‘Tootsie’ the cross-dressing Neanderthal or the toothless burly guy in the tee shirt? I’m guessing it’s the Amazon’s Neanderthal sidekick…).
Great job, Leah!
February 1st, 2012 at 5:42 am
Follow up: Just realized — “Tootsie” HAS to be the giant Neanderthal. Another cross-dresser, like Dustin Hoffman in the old movie of the same name, of course!
Again: Great job, Leah!
February 1st, 2012 at 8:01 am
thso that’s how it all began- like a gauntlet being thrown down.
good piece. I would have liked to watch the circus unload as well.
February 1st, 2012 at 8:09 am
What a fun story. Who doesn’t want to run away and join the circus? Four stars.
February 1st, 2012 at 8:15 am
Fiver stars for this line alone: “Doc said my troubles came from excess fat and sugar. If so, why does life feel so rawboned?”
. . . everything else, which was engaging and fun and had an original voice, was gravy.
February 1st, 2012 at 8:16 am
Great fun! Five stars for this lovely story.
February 1st, 2012 at 9:15 am
i’m with the rest of your fans above. i loved ‘why does life feel so rawboned?’ i also loved ‘an embarrassing CPR episode at Jiffy Lube.’ if anything gave me your heroine, that one did. it’s a great story. i also agree with Rob, your first paragraph might have worked better had it come as the ending paragraph. many congratulations on your opening chapter winning first prize in a national contest.
February 1st, 2012 at 9:17 am
Pitch perfect. Five stars and a rousing cheer.
February 1st, 2012 at 2:33 pm
Great voice, engaging characters. Nice job!
February 1st, 2012 at 5:19 pm
A super wonderful vignette. Enjoyed the read but grieved for the tension of some sort of inhibiting life changeling problem beyond the death of some pet animal. The writing is clear and colorful but couldn’t find the meat in this fantasy. A darn good 3.5
February 2nd, 2012 at 12:58 am
Loved this. Perfect tone and I was on her side from the start and urging her on. Would love another.
February 2nd, 2012 at 1:08 am
I really enjoyed this. Very engaging.
February 2nd, 2012 at 5:55 pm
Great voice. I was with her all the way. Wonderful job!