Red Wringer/Blue Monday: Sunday Photo Fiction 2 March 2014

49 03 March 2nd 2014

Sunday Photo Fiction, 2 March 2014

Red Wringer/Blue Monday

She looked at her raw hands, rough and red from years of work. Not soft white skin delicately laid over fine bones. Not hands to fuss with carefully coiffed hair. Not hands to place inside fine kid leather gloves. Not hands to hold thin china tea cups. Not hands to pick at chocolates and thin sandwiches. Not hands to dance along piano keys. Not hands to be held at elegant balls. Not hands to wear gold rings.

Sighing, she again plunged her hands into the soup of the laundry bucket to extract another piece of clothing. She put the shirt through the wringer, carefully maneuvering the cloth while cranking the handle. If it touched the ground, it would be back into the soap bucket to begin the whole process again.

As she pegged it next to her apron on the clothes line, she thought of how her life was like hands and laundry. 


3 thoughts on “Red Wringer/Blue Monday: Sunday Photo Fiction 2 March 2014

    • I remember helping my mother with the laundry using a wringer washer (electric by then) and constantly being warned to watch my fingers as I caught the clothes coming out of the other side of the contraption.
      Of course, the picture wasn’t necessarily a wringer for wet clothes. It could have served some other household, industrial, or farm purpose.


      • It was a washer wringer 🙂 When I took the photo, I was in the laundrette when I took it.

        When I was a kid, my nan used to have one of these and we would always love making things wet and putting them through it. Used to irritate the crap out of her, but we were kids 🙂


I like first person narratives.

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