Today’s writing prompt and my response.
Day one for this week. Use the prompt however you like, one at a time, or pen a short story over as many as you like.
Louise hated it when people said she was just a librarian.
Louise hated it when people said she was just a librarian Louise hated it when people said she was just a librarian. Although ‘people’ was stretching it a bit perhaps. It was her mother who said it the most, and her father would smile as if embarrassed, but for whom? And because she had heard it so often from her parents, Louise now applied it to herself.
‘Oh,’ she would say when new acquaintances asked what she did, ‘I’m just a librarian.’
‘That’s nice,’ was the most frequent response, while the new acquaintance went on to talk about their own, far more exciting, job.
Teachers, she had found in her circle, spun the most conversation out of their career choices. From sympathy for long hours worked through to the joy of shaping young minds, people clucked and cooed over teachers in a way that made Louise’s blood secretly boil.
She worked long hours too. Keeping up with what was what in the book world, especially children’s books, took time – her own time. Her mother complained constantly about Louise’s reading habit, ‘as if you don’t get enough of books at work.’ While her father rolled his eyes and looked embarrassed, but for whom?
And surely, making recommendations to kids about great books to read was a contribution to shaping young minds?
It was all very frustrating. One day, she would come straight out and say so. When the next person said, ‘That’s nice,’ Louise would take the bull by the horns and dive in before they could mouth off about being a teacher or starting their own jewellery-making business. She would nod vehemently and say, ‘Yes, it is. I have to read an awful lot, on my own time mind, and I do a lot to shape young minds advising them what books to read.’
She’d have to make sure she didn’t say it in front of her father. He was bound to look embarrassed, and she would know it was for her. If only she had a better way with words! But then, she was just a librarian.
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Louise hated it when people laughed at her dancing pumps. It was just not fair – for being a dancer was all she had ever wanted to be.
And to be a dancer you needed pumps – right? – so why did they laugh.
Largely because Louise insisted on wearing her pumps wherever she went. On the bus to school, in the classroom, to physical education classes – she even wore them to bed, not daring to take them off in case they might disappear, taken by some evil and wicked godmother up to no good.
Her mother had remonstrated with her, ever since the day she had taken her seven-year-old to buy the pumps.
“Pleeease,” begged Louise. “I’ve got to have them if I am ever going to learn to dance properly.”
Finally, her mother relented and purchased the shoes from a local store that specialised in such equipment.
Louise had refused to remove them from that day – not even for showering before she went to bed.
After a few weeks, the stench emanating from her feet had become overpowering so, one night in total desperation, her mother waited until Louise had fallen into a deep sleep before gently removing her pumps and thoroughly cleansing her toes and limbs. Fortunately, Louise did not stir and, come the morning, did not appear to notice that her feet and shoes had been thoroughly cleansed – giving off a sweet-smelling aroma in place of the awful smell of previous weeks.
Instead, she flounced happily on her way, pumps skipping in time to some imaginary beat blissfully unaware that anything had changed.
“Oh goodness,” thought her mother. “Whatever am I going to do with such an impossible child?”
Louise did not care what her mother thought. She had her pumps and her dancing dreams and life was full of magical promise.
Nice story, dear Louise!
Hilarious!!