Originally submitted to the IWW Practice-W Listserv on June 30, 2006, in response to this exercise. The three words I chose (at random) for the exercise were GROUP, GRIP and ANSWER.
First Flowering
I’m ashamed of myself, thought Miss Binns as she began her midnight rounds. It’s my Christian duty to love all my charges, even a thick, homely thing like Marya. Why do I always find myself raising my voice to her? The other girls in the orphanage had picked up on it, too; Marya was now the only one excluded from every group and clique.
She gave each of the dormitories a cursory glance, then noticed a light shining from communal bathroom. Inside, she found Marya scrubbing furiously at something in one of the sinks.
“Do you know what time it is?” Her voice rapped out, imperious in the emptiness.
Marya spun around, trying hide the pink water in the basin with her body.
Miss Binns adopted a more soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”
The girl’s face crumpled. “I woke up and I was like this, the blood—I was afraid—I didn’t know what to do!”
“Is that all?” Miss Binns felt a twinge of compassion. “Hush, hush. You’re becoming a woman! No one explained this to you?”
Marya just gaped at her, uncomprehending. Dear God, the girl’s eyebrows met over her nose, and she had more downy hair on her cheeks and upper lip than many boys her age!
Miss Binns sighed. “Give me your soiled undergarments, child. I’ll get you a sanitary napkin, and you can get back in bed.”
“I woke up naked, Miss Binns,” the girl sobbed. “The blood was everywhere. In my mouth, under my fingernails.”
Miss Binns grabbed one of Marya’s hands. It was true: each finger was tipped with drying gore. She noticed vaguely that the index, middle and ring fingers were all the same length. There was something funny about the palm, too, but suddenly Marya pulled from her grip with a pained cry. Miss Binns stared, nonplussed, at the blister appearing on the girl’s hand, then at the silver ring on her own finger.
She could hardly breathe. “If it isn’t your blood, then whose blood is it?”
In answer, a crescendo of horrified chorus of screams came from the dormitory.
