Today’s topic is: “Tell us a flash fiction story about a girl in a yellow dress.”
For the record, fiction isn’t my strong suit. I’m much more comfortable writing about personal experience. (I wonder if that makes me selfish or simply uncreative?) Anyway, one of the beauties of this form of blogging (i.e. having someone else choose the topics) is that I am challenged on days like today. So, sit back and enjoy a brief story about a girl in a yellow dress.
Once upon a time (because all stories have to start that way, right?), there was a young girl who lived with her father in a crooked old house on outskirts of town. Her name was Henrietta but her father simply called her ‘Hen.’
Every morning, just like the five generations that came before, her father woke up early and let the chickens out of the barn so they could roam the meadow, eating grass and bugs. He would haul fresh water from the river and scoop out the soiled bedding under the roosts. It was Hen’s job to collect the eggs and package them for market. Every afternoon, her father would deliver eggs to town and return with provisions and the daily newspaper.
One sunny morning, after she had finished her chores, Hen sat down at the kitchen table to read the news. Between the usual ads for farm supplies and veterinarian services, a headline caught her eye, “SPRING DANCE FRIDAY.” She had never been to a dance before but she remembered reading about the magical ball in Cinderella. With no fairy godmother to bippity-boppity-boo her a dress, she decided she would have to make one for herself.
She searched the house for usable fabric but found none. Just as she was about to lose hope, she glanced out the window and saw the vast meadow covered in blooming dandelions. She knew how to braid flowers into beautiful crowns and with a bit of engineering, she figured she could also braid them into a dress, so she set straight to work.
The dress was nearly finished by the time her father returned to the house. “It’s a good thing the chickens don’t like to eat dandelions because that dress is as pretty as a sitting hen in summer!” said her father. She bubbled with excitement as she attached the final blossoms, took hold of her father’s arm, and skipped with him to town in her new yellow dress.
~ Phoebe DeCook
Phoebe DeCook 