The Origins of Knitting Clubs

This is a short story I wrote a while ago as a school writing assignment. Critique at will.

If you turn 270 degrees to the left and walk five miles from your current position, after bumping into multiple walls and trees, you would find a small wooden house in a small wooden village. It was here in that house that, many years ago, something happened that changed everything for anyone who didn’t care anything about anything. Little Sue was one such person. She cared nothing about anything especially anything having anything to do with her French neighbor’s sister’s fiancée’s deceased wife’s grandmother’s granddaughter, who was commonly known in the neighborhood as Big Sue. Big Sue was a nickname used only because, though Big Sue was smaller than Little Sue, nobody wanted to call the smaller Sue Littler Sue.

One day when Little Sue was eight, all of Big Sue’s relatives had to attend various funerals, all at the same time. Big Sue was left with Little Sue, whose parents were attending a wedding. So it was that two-year-old Big Sue was left with Little Sue in Little Sue’s house. Of course, Little Sue didn’t care. Not even when Big Sue began running.

Big Sue jumped out of her cradle and ran in circles around one of the only open spots of floor in the house. Little Sue didn’t care. She fell asleep.

Later, she awoke to a loud cracking and sucking noise. Thinking that Big Sue had cracked her knuckles and then begun sucking her thumb, Little Sue didn’t care.

Then she heard an evil laugh.

It was the evilest evil laugh she had ever heard, and it didn’t sound like Big Sue was making it.

Little Sue turned around.

There, where Big Sue had been running (and was still running), was a black pit with something rising from it.

The black shadow looked like something between a chicken and a sheep. Its beak was open, laughing maniacally.

“I’m free,” it said (let’s call it a chickeep). “Who would have thought that a baby running in circles could open a void! Now I can destroy the world!” It began laughing again.

Little Sue was frightened. Quickly she caught Big Sue mid-step and stuffed her into her crib. She tied some shock cords around the baby, hiding them from sight with a blanket. Big Sue giggled happily. She obviously liked the feeling of having caused the end of the world.

“Excuse me,” said Little Sue. The big chickeep turned, no longer laughing maniacally. “Did you say you were going to destroy the world?”

“Are you deaf?” the chickeep asked. ”I said that, yes, and I also know that there’s only one way to stop me. Mwahahahaaaa! That way will never be found by you, because you don’t care! Even if you did, you would never see the connection existing between my demise and the knitting of articles of clothing!” He laughed again, choked, then resumed laughing.

While the chickeep was thus occupied, Little Sue ran to get her mother’s grandmother’s knitting needles and a ball of yarn.She began knitting quickly, not caring that she couldn’t knit well.

The chickeep felt the void pulling him away. “No! your aren’t supposed to care! Noooooooooooooooooo!” he screamed as he disappeared. The whole hole vanished as well, kindly replacing the floorboards as it did so.

“I might not care about much, but I care about myself,” Little Sue said, knowing that every short story needs a profound statement in it. She continued knitting, realizing that she cared about the things she never thought she cared about.

She continued knitting, dropping stitches and thinking profound thoughts until her parents came home. She told them what had happened and they told everyone who hadn’t cared either. Profound statements abounded.

Very soon, groups of ladies everywhere knitted together daily as if the world depended on it, which it did.


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