Myshuno! prompt: Lighting a Fire
Oct. 1st, 2011 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fuzzysporkPrompt: Lighting a Fire
Rating: Everyone
Note: A situation from my yet-to-be-published Egyptian legacy.
Word Count: 780
My Card
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Itet gripped the fire stick with her toes while her hands worked the drill and bow. The position was awkward due to the size of her belly, causing her to have to reach around it. She knew she should be squatting on the floor instead of sitting on the cooking stone, but this task would be impossible otherwise. She also knew dirtying the cooking stone in this manner would be enough to get her a stern lecture should anyone see! But there was no one there to see, so it didn’t bother her. Besides, the man who calls her wife does not own a stool, or any furniture for that matter, and the cooking stone is at the right height to keep her swollen abdomen out of the way. Itet’s shoulder burned with the effort it took to keep the bow moving quickly. It burned like the fire that should be in the brazier right now! How could she have been so stupid to let it go out again? If she couldn’t get it lit, Itet would have to ask for an ember from the neighbor. Again.
Itet hated the woman. That common bread-maker took great pleasure in bullying Itet about her lack of domestic skills. “Have you never plucked a duck before, girl? You don’t even know which end of a spindle to hold! You act as if you grew up in a palace with servants tending you!” It was meant to berate but the bread-maker did not realize it was true. Itet, in fact, grew up in the king’s royal palace. She blurted this out in a fit of rage one day after the bread-maker had ridden Itet for hours about her housekeeping failures. “OH is that so?!” the woman had said it with an almost maniacal glee on her face, “Then we are in the presence of a princess!” This was followed by the hateful woman laughing so hard she urinated on herself.
Itet snarled and pumped the bow faster. She would not give that hateful woman the pleasure of having to help her again. She would get this fire started herself! Itet tried to concentrate on the small pile of dry papyrus fibers at the base of the drill where it spun in a groove on the fire stick, willing it to burst into flame. Come on, light. Light! She was panting with the effort, the beads in her wig swaying and clicking together rhythmically while sweat dripped from her nose in a steady time like a priest’s water clock. She saw the droplets land on her naked stomach, then skitter down the oiled skin like pebbles rolling down a cliff. Itet would be doing this on the roof where there might be some relief in the form of a breeze, but at this hour that hateful woman would be baking bread on her own roof next door. Itet would sweat to death before she let the bread-maker see her struggling with this.
Itet clamped her teeth together hard as a sudden spasm of pain hit the small of her back. It was like dual knives stabbing her low then simultaneously cutting across both hips to meet each other at the center of her lower abdomen, as if trying to sever her in half. This was Itet’s first pregnancy but she knew these pains meant the baby would be coming soon. With that thought she could not help glancing at the birthing blocks in the corner of the room. The sister of the man who calls her wife had brought them over only yesterday. Itet grimaced at the mental image of herself squatting on the blocks, trying to force a baby from her womb. The sister and the bread-maker would be holding Itet up from each side, cooing at her and whispering incantations while Itet screamed with the effort and swayed from the pain. Then finally, in a gush of fluid and blood, a new life would come writhing and mewling into this retched existence.
Her toes lost their grip on the fire stick, causing the drill to skip the groove and fall away useless. Itet let out an anguished cry and raised the bow over her head intending to fling it across the small room, but she envisioned it hitting the mudbrick wall and splintering into a dozen pieces. They only had the one bow. So with a sob Itet lowered her arm and gathered the fire making implements one more time. Scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes to clear away the tears and sweat, not caring that she had smeared the black kohl over her cheeks, Itet set to work again.
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Prompt given by![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=87.1)
silverbelle1220
Rating: Everyone
Note: A situation from my yet-to-be-published Egyptian legacy.
Word Count: 780
My Card
-----------------------------------------
Itet gripped the fire stick with her toes while her hands worked the drill and bow. The position was awkward due to the size of her belly, causing her to have to reach around it. She knew she should be squatting on the floor instead of sitting on the cooking stone, but this task would be impossible otherwise. She also knew dirtying the cooking stone in this manner would be enough to get her a stern lecture should anyone see! But there was no one there to see, so it didn’t bother her. Besides, the man who calls her wife does not own a stool, or any furniture for that matter, and the cooking stone is at the right height to keep her swollen abdomen out of the way. Itet’s shoulder burned with the effort it took to keep the bow moving quickly. It burned like the fire that should be in the brazier right now! How could she have been so stupid to let it go out again? If she couldn’t get it lit, Itet would have to ask for an ember from the neighbor. Again.
Itet hated the woman. That common bread-maker took great pleasure in bullying Itet about her lack of domestic skills. “Have you never plucked a duck before, girl? You don’t even know which end of a spindle to hold! You act as if you grew up in a palace with servants tending you!” It was meant to berate but the bread-maker did not realize it was true. Itet, in fact, grew up in the king’s royal palace. She blurted this out in a fit of rage one day after the bread-maker had ridden Itet for hours about her housekeeping failures. “OH is that so?!” the woman had said it with an almost maniacal glee on her face, “Then we are in the presence of a princess!” This was followed by the hateful woman laughing so hard she urinated on herself.
Itet snarled and pumped the bow faster. She would not give that hateful woman the pleasure of having to help her again. She would get this fire started herself! Itet tried to concentrate on the small pile of dry papyrus fibers at the base of the drill where it spun in a groove on the fire stick, willing it to burst into flame. Come on, light. Light! She was panting with the effort, the beads in her wig swaying and clicking together rhythmically while sweat dripped from her nose in a steady time like a priest’s water clock. She saw the droplets land on her naked stomach, then skitter down the oiled skin like pebbles rolling down a cliff. Itet would be doing this on the roof where there might be some relief in the form of a breeze, but at this hour that hateful woman would be baking bread on her own roof next door. Itet would sweat to death before she let the bread-maker see her struggling with this.
Itet clamped her teeth together hard as a sudden spasm of pain hit the small of her back. It was like dual knives stabbing her low then simultaneously cutting across both hips to meet each other at the center of her lower abdomen, as if trying to sever her in half. This was Itet’s first pregnancy but she knew these pains meant the baby would be coming soon. With that thought she could not help glancing at the birthing blocks in the corner of the room. The sister of the man who calls her wife had brought them over only yesterday. Itet grimaced at the mental image of herself squatting on the blocks, trying to force a baby from her womb. The sister and the bread-maker would be holding Itet up from each side, cooing at her and whispering incantations while Itet screamed with the effort and swayed from the pain. Then finally, in a gush of fluid and blood, a new life would come writhing and mewling into this retched existence.
Her toes lost their grip on the fire stick, causing the drill to skip the groove and fall away useless. Itet let out an anguished cry and raised the bow over her head intending to fling it across the small room, but she envisioned it hitting the mudbrick wall and splintering into a dozen pieces. They only had the one bow. So with a sob Itet lowered her arm and gathered the fire making implements one more time. Scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes to clear away the tears and sweat, not caring that she had smeared the black kohl over her cheeks, Itet set to work again.
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Prompt given by
silverbelle1220