The Prodigal Sock Story Competition: Story 2

April 2, 2011

Bluey Left: A Cautionary Tale

Bluey Left had spent years behind the dryer. Memories of his other half – Bluey Right – were as tenuous as the cobwebs hanging in the corners or the laundry’s ceiling; his dreams of rescue now twisted to that of vengeance. Discarded and forgotten, it was a dark and dank existence filled with nothing but festering rage.
Left and right, right and left, those words wove through his threads like the gathering mould.  Sometimes he remembered he had once been part of pair, knotted together in a warm embrace; but it was abandonment that ruled Bluey Left, and that, he never forgot.
Chewed on by mice, slimed by slugs, each indignity deepened his bitterness. Sunlight never touched him and the air that washed over him was as fiery as the hell he would unleash on those who had rejected him.
Bluey Left was coming apart at the seams, his mind unravelling like he was. Right and left, left and right… He clung to his mantra with all his might. Like one would wish upon a star, Bluey Left wished upon the purring engine that ruled his dark world.
One errant thread, that’s all it took to bring Bluey Left from the darkness and into the light. Snagged on the foot of cockroach, he was dragged to the corner of the dryer. Waiting, waiting, it was the stubby, dirty fingers of a child that brought him release.
“Mummy! I found him!”
Bluey Left flinched under the glare of fluorescent light. Squeezed tight in that tiny fist, he struggled to be free.
“Put that filthy down!” This voice screeched through him. “Throw it in the bin.”
“It’s Bluey Left, Mummy! You lost him and now he’s back. He’s back!”
Bluey Left struggled to stay together during the tug-of-war; tears of the child splashed onto his threads as blood-red fingernails dug into his heel.
“Nooo…” the child wailed.
“Let go!” The woman demanded, but the child wouldn’t relinquish his prize and fought hard for Bluey Left’s survival.
“He’s mine! Mine!”
Sweet release.
Bluey Left, now cradled in the hands of his saviour, breathed a sigh of relief.
“What are you going to do with one sock, Benny? I threw the other one out years ago.”
Bluey Left wriggled with ire. Bluey Right was gone, discarded as he’d been.
“Wash him,” Benny snapped and thrust Bluey Left at the woman, his enemy.
Darkness.
Cold.
Wet.
Bluey Left’s anger grew with each dunk into the bucket, his fury eternal as he was wrung then thrown into the searing heat of his previous captor.
It was the small hand that freed him again, but it was the large hand that inflicted more pain. Stitched together with thread the same blood-red as the fingernails, Bluey Left formulated his plan.
When she gave him button eyes, she sealed her fate.
That night, when all was quiet, the rhythmic breathing of sleep lulling all in the house, Bluey Left slithered from the end of Benny’s bed.
No one heard his whispers as he told his tale to the other socks, warned of their fate should they lose their other half.
Bluey Left had his army, and they followed him out of his Saviours bedroom and into the darkness of the hallway…. 

End.

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2 Responses to “The Prodigal Sock Story Competition: Story 2”

  1. Steph said

    I completely love this version with all my being… It’s so different and evokes a sense of calm fear… Read it tonight not in the morning!! Lol

    Xo Steph

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