2007-08-24: Flash Fiction: The Factory

A bit of fun with creative writing.

At ten minutes to seven in the morning, the old factory next door began to be torn down and the dust coated their balcony. It took seven months for the new building to rise, bright red brick and a gleaming brass sign that simply read "Factory #7".

It's finally finished, she said, another factory. Strange.

I wonder what company it is, and where are the other six? he replied.

And they left the balcony and went to bed, and while they slept, inside the factory with its high red brick walls, in a room that was gleaming with white lineoleum, sat seven women with long golden hair. Seven spinning wheels, one in front of each, manacled to seven delicate ankles. Seven piles of straw tottered toward the flourescent lights, waiting to be transformed.