excerpts from “frEEd ?”

by penelope waFFle

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frEEd ? but never frEE. not for me. 

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Oh, Martha. I’m so very, very soRRy. 

I woke up to needles…

…pricking at my flesh. As I struggled to get out of the hedge’s prickly grasp, I spotted — out of the corner of my eyes — a tiny house. And I knew what a tiny house was because my owner had one.

There were no lights on.

So I assumed nobody was there. Looking left and then right. Slowly. To make sure no one was there, I quietly approached the tiny house.

The door was already open, though, by just a crack. I opened the door wider and carefully peered inside. On a small table sat a plate with a modest smidgen of salted pork and roasted potatoes on it.

I had already run away. So what was the point in not eating the food? Besides, I was famished.

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The first bite of the fOOd…

…was scrumptious and filled my mouth with delight. The flavor exploded in my mouth. I had never eaten anything so delicious.

All I ever had to eat…

…was a little cornmeal, lard, and greens. I chewed slowly, savoring the roasted potatoes. Soon — way too soon — I finished the fOOd. I felt way more full than I had ever been.

“If only Martha was here,” I heard myself think. Outloud.

Martha. I suddenly stood up straight. Alarmed.

Where was Martha?

Is she okay?

Did she manage to escape?

Or is she still with her owner?

All the happiness I had abruptly vanished.

Instead, when I realized what might have happened to Martha, I began to sob.

“Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry,” I wept.

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frEEd – but not reaLLy frEE – read chapter 2 – martha

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Hi, my real name is …

… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words. And I like pink.