Helen: Chapter One
I’ve been really jonesing to write some more fiction, but I am also knee-deep in a novel revise and rewrite, so I’ve made a compromise with myself: Allie’s take on flash fiction. Each Saturday, I will craft another 100-word chapter for Helen’s story. Want to join us? It’ll take less than a minute of your time.
Helen missed great swaths of her life due to an innate tendency to cast her eyes downward, demurely deferring to some unseen, unknowable force. She had gathered intimate knowledge of the grounds near every portico, palisade, and patio she had ever visited; she much preferred her studies of poured concrete’s chaos and tile’s uniformed texture to what may happen if she made eye contact with a stranger on the sidewalk. Why was this so? A reflection at her bus stop unearthed the genesis of the underlying fear: she never knew what truths she may find in a stranger’s sidelong glance.