This choice: your neice's baby clothes and diapers load • Go Back...Chapter #2The little girl's clothes by: Bird   Oh, that's just- that's just nasty!
You cling to the nearest piece of clothing as the wash cycle begins. Even with the powerful detergent, you can smell what these clothes have been used for.
The drum shifts back and forth and back and forth as the water rises. Your grip isn't very good, but you don't dare to move. The fabric beneath you begins to feel damp. Back and forth, back and forth. Despite your fear and worry, your eyes begin to feel heavy. The air is getting rather thin; maybe it'd be best to sleep, so you
lower
your
breathing
You awake with a gasp, struggling for air. Water churned around you, but you were stuck, immobilized to a thick, fabric wall. In the dark, you were violently shaken, like a piece of clothing in a spin cycle...
Your situation comes rushing back. You clung tightly to the baby's clothes, fearing the drains in the washer that could swallow you whole. Water rushes down over you, then up over you, then around you. A scream grows in the back of your throat, but you hold it in. The machine rumbles loudly, and despite yourself you begin to sob.
Eventually, hell ends. The churning slows, then stops. The rumbling grows quiet. Even you stop your tears, as the water drys around you. You know what's next. Someone's going to open the top, and when they do you'll get their attention. And, look and behold, the top opens. Light shines in, blinding you to all except a darkened silhouette. It's hand reaches in, fingers grasping at the clothes at the far side of the machine.
"Hey! I'm down here! I shrank! Please! PLEASE!" You shout your lungs out, screaming and wailing, but the person keeps grabbing at clothes. Soon, you and your garment are all that remains. The hand reaches for you. "Oh God, please just see me," you sob out, the tears having long since returned. A thumb pressing into you; the fabric squelches with the pressure, and you feel the textured surface of magnified skin. You're lifted up, up, up, and suddenly dropped. Eyes finally having adjusted, you peer about at the tall basket you've been placed in. You try to sit up, but are thrown down by a bout of motion.
This basket is familiar, of course. From here, you're headed right for the dryer. That is, unless you can get some attention. You've got seconds of the short walk across the laundry room, so you peer up at the face and scream. "Help! HELP!"
The basket is set down, and still you've been ignored. "HELP!" you scream, the loudest you've been yet. A face peers down at you; there's no recognition in it's eyes. You recognize it, however, and it brings even more tears to the eyes.
Who's doing you as laundry?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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