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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/171658
by June
Rated: 13+ · Serial · Melodrama · #171658
The saga continues...
I Hook By Night -- a Crochet Soap
© Copyright 2000, 2001 by P. June Diehl

Segment 7

The streets were dark, intermixed with dim shadows from a few streetlights in this old, partially rundown section of town. Just a few more blocks, Janice whispered to herself. She kept her car under the speed limit and began to look for possible parking spots. Hopefully, she would find a space next to the bookstore, but that has not always been possible.

Her thoughts turned to Tom and Rebecca, at home, hopefully asleep. Tom did not say much when she told him she needed to return to work to do some emergency work. Once in a while her job would interrupt an evening or a weekend. Tom had kissed her as she got ready to leave, told her he loved her, and asked her to be careful. Tom did not say anything about the bag she was taking with her, as he was accustomed to seeing her take it everywhere.

She turned the last corner finding one last space at the end of the block. At least she would only have a couple of feet to walk to the shop.

Grabbing her bag, she locked her car door behind her, and walked quickly to the backdoor of the bookshop. Her footsteps echoed in the narrow street between the buildings looming on either side. She listened to make sure she heard no other footsteps.

At the back door to the bookstore, she paused. Hearing voices from inside, she knocked twice, loudly. The voices inside stopped only to be replaced by Randy's quiet voice, "Janice? Is that you?" he whispered through the door.

"Yes, Randy, it's me," Janice quickly replied, glancing up and down the side street. No movement, the street was asleep.

The door opened wide enough for her to squeeze through. Looking around the room, everyone else seemed to have arrived before her. Bags, similar to hers, dotted the tables and floor. Janice smiled to herself as she noticed that many projects had been removed so the crocheter could work while waiting for everyone to arrive.

Reading her thoughts, Randy whispered, "Yes, you are the last one." Aloud he said, "Ok! Everyone! Let's get started so we can all get back to our loved ones before daybreak."

******

With her hook in hand, she sat on the rock in the grassy meadow. She began to chain, to work the hook's magic. Her hands flew and in a manner of minutes she had the chain to the desired length. Next, she began her pattern of single and double crochets, working the rows back and forth. The light blue yarn seemed to almost work her hook.
The feeling that swept her entire body as she continued to work was nearly orgasmic.

As Alicia worked all the sounds around her seemed to brighten. The color of the grass and the sky changed in intensity. Everything seemed to be glowing. Feeling as if she were crocheting a new world, her hands grew wings and her hook flew. She was in the clouds. She moved beyond the clouds to a place with bright lights. She felt such a sense of calm, of quiet, of peace.

The feelings and lights engulfed her, becoming so intense that she felt her body jerk.

Alicia was sitting up in her bed, her yarn and hook having fallen to the floor. Wow, she thought, what a dream! So powerful and so real! Not moving, she sat in the bed soaking in the leftover feelings and visions of her dream. She was conscious of her breathing and the lightness within her body.

Several minutes passed before she retrieved the items from the floor, laying them on the small table beside her bed. She glanced at her clock. 3 AM. Today was the big day! Finally, Wednesday had arrived. She was excited, but wanted to get back asleep so she could concentrate on her clients, who would start arriving at 7:30 AM. Then the rest of the day was hers. She thought about all the different types of yarns that she would get the chance to touch. Thinking about the softest yarn she could imagine, she drifted off to sleep where she returned to dreaming about her new found love.
© Copyright 2001 June (pjune at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/171658