Kept

The measles was the first one my body kept. The pediatrician thought it would be an easy in/out visit; kid comes in, needle goes in, needle goes out, kid goes out. Somewhere between steps two and three, my skin puckered around the slender cylinder and my cells entwined with stainless steel. After tugging at the needle unsuccessfully, the doctor simply trimmed the syringe, leaving a metal hair follicle in my thigh. As I got older, my body kept more of them. Chicken pox, mumps, meningitis, all three hepatitis Bs. They poked through my thin clothes, snagged the curtains, scraped the other kids on the playground. My mom tried to cut them shorter, closer to my skin, but they grew back as fast as fingernails. I was given lots of room in the school hallways. No one wanted to walk next to the girl who could rip their favorite t-shirt with a brush of her shoulder. My family moved me south for the warmth, so the heavy coats wouldn't pull as much. I wore a short dress to prom, the very first needle peeking out from under the hem of the skirt. My date carefully brushed his thumb around it, questioningly tugged at my underwear. I shook my head no. I was afraid I would keep him too.

Reviews

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Wow this is dark and gloomy. It seems as if the needle kept your from being heckled and bullied. This sort of sounds like a suspensful/thriller type story. I'm sure if the date or any unwanted guy would have done what you described at the end he would have regretted it...lol. This was a very clever piece. I enjoyed reading it and chewing over its meaning. Keep exercising your gift!