"My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence." ― Sir Arthur Conan Doylen, Sherlock Holmes
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January 5, 2017

January 5: I found a ball…

'More about the 20 Days of Chill over here

Fiction: Gold Yarn

Two days ago, I found a ball of yarn in an unmarked box while cleaning the basement. The yarn was a bright shade of gold and appeared unused. I wanted to look at it more closely so I unraveled it. A voice floated through the air. "Hello," it said. I stopped unwinding the yarn to listen but no voice. Then I started again with the yarn, the voice said, "I am here, in the yarn. Can you hear me?"

I want to say yes but as I stared at the yarn in my hand, I began to doubt I've heard the voice. As I kept unraveling, the voice spoke again. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," I said uncertain if I was dreaming.

"Really? You can hear me? Thank you! I have been in the box for ages and... but that is not important. I am Meredith and you are?"

I had been unwinding the yarn thinking the voice will go away if I don't continue. I answered, "I am Gail. Gail Wednesday." I loosened the yarn a bit more.

"Gail? Why, that is my grandmother's name. Suppose you are my great-granddaughter or granddaughter? And, you do not have to unwind the yarn anymore. As long as a piece of me is untuck, I can speak."

I rewound the yarn and leave the end strand loose. "I don't think I'm your granddaughter. But my name is Gail and I was named after my grandmother but I don't know any Meredith in my family."


"None." I was beginning to feel a bit light headed.

"Then perhaps, you should look farther. I am certain you must be related to me or how else could you hear me?"

My mother called then. "Gail, I need you upstairs."

"I have to go, my mother needs me." I dropped the yarn back into the box and closed it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The day before, when I returned from work, I found the gold yarn with other less colorful yarns in a box among other boxes in the livingroom. There was a note among the pile: We're having a yard sale.

I picked up the yarn. For what, I had no idea.

"Gail, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, Meredith. Did you speak to my mother?"

"I did but she could not hear me."


"I do not know. Perhaps only you can hear me."

"Or perhaps..." I stopped. Perhaps I am going crazy and imagined Meredith.

"Gail! Good, you're home. What do you think?" My mother spread her arms around. "A yard sale would get rid of these junk."

"Yes, Mother."

"Alright then." My mother smiled and returned to the kitchen.

"Gail, I..." Meredith began.

"What?" I was starting to get irritated by her voice.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I... I don't know. What do you want?"

"I am not certain, Gail. I have been stored away for a long while and I do not remember why or how I got here."

"Then tell me when you do remember." I rewinded the yarn and placed it back in the box.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yesterday, I sat in the front yard in the cold winter wind surrounded by the years of junk that had sat in our house. My mother had said she wanted to sell everything no matter how little people offer us.

A few people stopped and picked through the box of yarn, loosening some including the gold yarn. Whenever someone pulled a little at the tip of the yarn, Meredith would start singing.

Two an hours ago, I had accidentally dropped the gold yarn on the floor and Meredith had said, "Gail, do not sell me yet. I need time to remember." But I was certain I was going to go mad if I didn't get rid of her. I had asked Mother if she knew any Meredith but she didn't. I even gone through all the papers about our family but there was no a single person named Meredith.

The sky soon became cloudy but it was still bright enough. I had sold two chairs, a blue piggy bank, two carpets, three picture frames and a three piece tea set.

One woman wearing layers of coats, stopped by and examined every item. There wasn't that much left. She finally stopped at the box of yarn. "I'll take these." I went over to her and she held out a five dollar bill which I took. "Thank you, m'am."

The woman lifted up the box and carried it with her. When I had settled down in my chair again, the box dropped on the table in front of me. The woman with the layered coats picked up the gold yarn and said, "Take this back. It doesn't suit the colors that I want." She didn't wait for me. She dropped the yarn on the table and carried her box away. I stared at the gold yarn on the table. It had loosen. Meredith was singing 'Row, row, row your boat.'

I ran after the woman to protest but when I looked around, I could not see her.

"...merrily, merrily, life is but a dream." Meredith finished her song. "Gail, do you know any childhood melody? I will sing for you if you tell what you like."

My head began to ache and I wondered if I have a tumor or something. "You are not real," I said just above a whisper.

"Gail, I am sorry, just give me some time," Meredith pleaded.

A tall man wearing a tan coat stopped and bended over the lamp shaped into a woman's leg. "Ten dollars and that is all I'm going to pay." He said as he looked into my eyes. I nodded my head. "Yes, sir, 10 dollars it is." He smiled and handed over the money and took his lamp away with him.

Soon, all that was left is a box of comics, a faded coffee table and the gold yarn. Mother came out of the house and said, "Gail, I think, we can trash those. No one's going to buy them." She returned inside the house.

I carried the box of comic, the coffee table and placed them on the sidewalk. Tomorrow was trash day.

I picked up the yarn and Meredith began to sing 'Mary had a little lamb.' I pulled the loose strand and tucked it into the rest of the yarn. Meredith's voice faded away. But as I put my hand out to drop the yarn in the trash bin, I hesitated. It was not Meredith's fault she was this way.

An hour later, my mother and I were in the kitchen having dinner when I began to hear Meredith singing. I had placed the yarn inside a box in the hall closet. Mother sipped her tea. "Gail, will you do the dishes today? I've got to talk to Judith." She stood up.

"Yes, Mother." When my mother was gone, I pulled the closet door open and shouted, "What do you want, Meredith?" The gold yarn was on the floor where it must have fallen.

"I have not spoke to anyone in ages, Gail. It was so nice to be heard!"

I picked up the yarn. It was soft. "Please, I need my sanity."

"I am sorry, Gail. But I have to tell you something. I know how you can help me."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Today, I sat with Judith, my mother's childhood friend. My mother and I are at the nursing home visiting my mother's friends.

Moments ago, I had presented the gold knitted scarf to a lady name Samantha. She had laughed with glee and went around the room to show her friends.

I had spent the morning and then the afternoon knitting the scarf at Meredith's insistent. She wanted it to be perfect so she was giving me instructions throughout which I sort of half ignored but the result was perfect.

Meredith said she wanted to be around people her age. She has chosen Samantha because Samantha reminded her of her mother. Meredith still do not recall who she was but she had said it was not important. She was happy to be out of the box. Hopefully, Meredith is singing in someone's else's head because she is certainly not in my head.

As my mother and I are leaving the nursing home, she exclaims, "You know Gail, I just remember something. My mother used to call her grandmother 'Meredith.' I don't remember the reason but it certainly was strange. And you know what else? My mother, your grandmother, was going to name me Meredith. Hell, I was even going to name you Meredith but my mother insisted that was foolish."

I laugh and think how strange it is but then I remember I have been talking to a ball of yarn...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thank you for reading. To visit other bloggers participating in the 20 days of chill, go here.


  1. Perhaps that ball of yarn was looking for someone to knit it into a sweater, so that it could be close to another person all the time?

    1. yes, I like to believe objects like people may want to be close to something or someone that may be dear to them.

      thank you for stopping by, have a lovely day.

  2. This was completely and absolutely MAGICAL. What a lovely story - I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it. You have a wonderful way of telling a beautiful tale.

  3. That was such a fun story, I hung on every word. I love to write whimsical fiction.

  4. What a fantastic story!
    Now I'm wondering about the knitted items in my closet... are they former family members..?
    Happy Friday, Lissa!

  5. That was a very interesting read. I like how you put it all together and the ending is nice as it can make people wonder about her .. and who she was and what her purpose was. Nicely done. :)


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