Joyce Carol Oates Novel Novels & Stories

The silver thread glimmered like a dying star between my fingers as I pulled the final stitch. I had spent weeks carving a masterpiece out of a mess, breathing life into a gown that was little more than a hand-me-down from Nora, the chief maid. It was a relic of the royal palace, salvaged from the scrap heap of a life I was never meant to lead.

she mentioned. Annabelle brought out a small Nokia phone and showed her. "I have a phone here. I will give you my phone number." Joyce grinned and brought out a notepad and a pen. She wrote her number down, put the book and pen back in her bag and uttered, "Let's get going so you can have a change of clothes." Annabelle smiled and started following her. She reminded herself not to get carried away by Joyce's goodness and just focus on what she was there for. "I need the money," she muttered behind her as they went to get her new clothes.

She pats her abdomen for emphasis. Once she closes the door to her room behind her, she finds herself pacing back and forth, desperate for something to do. She can't seem to sit for too long. Her eye catches a book she's been wanting to read. Reading hasn't exactly fit her mood lately. In one swift motion, she grabs the novel off the shelf, jumps into bed, and opens to the first chapter.