Blocking Needlepoint Novels & Stories

Jasmine's face twisted into a grimace as the needle pierced through her skin, leaving a small red dot on her index finger which slowly began to seep blood. She was occupied with knitting a cloth while seated on the balcony, enjoying the chilly weather and the peaceful atmosphere. Suddenly, a thought popped into her mind and she decided to act on it, choosing to knit as a way to keep herself occupied and entertained.

And really, I don’t want to avoid it anymore. I slip into the seat beside my machine and take a deep breath. Then another. I roll my neck, stretch out my shoulders the way Nathan always tells me to, and start threading the needle. The hum of the machine fills the space quickly, and with it, my thoughts quiet. The rhythm of it is soothing, almost like music. Every stitch is an act of reclaiming something I didn’t realize I’d let slip away in the rush of the past few weeks. This is mine.