➤ ➤ VIVIAN DE WINTER | artist, writer + crochet designer

Graceful Cartilage, An Anthology by Vivian De Winteradult anthology

Title: Graceful Cartilage
An Anthology of Short Fiction, Writing Prompt Exercises and Poetry
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Appropriate for Ages: 14+
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Just as we assemble raw materials to create a finished product, I gathered a few of my short fiction stories, writing exercises and pieces of poetry to create my anthology titled Graceful Cartilage.

I put this collection together for all you readers out there who would prefer snacking on something small rather than tackling the full-course meal of a lengthy novel.

There’s humour, tragedy and thought-provoking situations—all of which combine to provide a source of meaningful entertainment or topics of discussion.

Excerpt From Short Fiction Title:
Waste Management

I opened my eyes, unable to move my hands or my feet. Unable to touch what had trickled down one side of my face.

My last stop of the night. Some old lady had ordered twenty pizzas, each one a different combination of toppings. I should have known better than to come down to this neighbourhood. No one paid their electric bills here, not even for the city's own street lights.

Something soft brushed against my captive leg.

"Salmonella," an old woman said. "You flirty kitty. Leave the pizza man alone." Her voice tickled my ear. Dry and raspy, with a slight whistle. I imagined her standing right behind me, hunched over my shoulder.

"Look,” I said, “if you don't have the money to pay for the pizza, no harm done.” I pulled on the ropes around my wrists and ankles. The wooden chair creaked. My bony hips throbbed from sitting too long on the most uncomfortable chair ever made. "I'll just take them back with me."

"Freddie, please give the man his money."

Something fell onto my lap.

"Why did you tie me up? Do you want my truck? I'll be honest with you, it's no prize. It's burning oil. I don't think it would pass the next emissions test."

I listened as someone left the room and came back, repeating the action four times, all the while dragging their feet across the floor. It sounded like it wore Sasquatch-sized boots.

"Can you put a light on?" I asked. "I'm afraid of the dark."