She sat quietly, stitching the final stitches in the glow of a dying candle. Months had passed since she’d begun the arduous task, but she was finally finished. Time and time again, unhappy with her work, she’d ripped portions out and re-stitched them. The quilt needed to be perfect.
Her fingertips caressed the beautiful creation. The hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth. With her new blanket–one side a patchwork of varies pigments of human skin, the other an amalgamation of the scalps of her victims–wrapped around her shoulders, she stepped out onto the balcony.
When I first looked at this photo, I thought of a woman being stalked by a man, but the woman turns out actually be hunting the unsuspecting man. I’ve written that story before, probably several times, so I moved on. Next I thought of werewolves, but didn’t have any idea of where to go with that. So I moved on to my next thought: Frankenstein. But I wanted to go a different route than the traditional monster stitched together from corpse pieces, and thus the Frankenquilt was born.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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