People saw Aryia as an ordinary girl with ordinary interests. She kept herself neat, followed the rules, and acted just as everyone expected.

One quiet afternoon, she sat beneath the willow tree in her grandmother’s front yard, practicing her knitting. It was her favorite place to do so. A gentle breeze moved through the willow branches, causing them to lightly whistle, and the damp grass gave off a calming, earthy fragrance. It was the perfect setting to focus.

Her grandmother gifted her these knitting needles along with a book of patterns and instructed her to simply “follow what’s written.”

“Knit one, purl two…knit two, purl one.” Over and over again, she began to develop a rhythm. Her mind drifted… “Knit one, purl two… knit two, purl one.” The world around her grew as calm and steady as her chant; the birds grew quiet, the wind hushed. “Knit one, purl two… knit two purl one…the clouds shall cast and cover the sun.”

The sky grew dark, the air turned cool…”Knit one purl two, knit two purl one…what once had finished shall be undone…” The ground rumbled, but Aryia continued her chant, seeming unfazed by the rapid changes happening around her.

Standing not far from Aryia was her grandmother. She watched as the young girl rocked and chanted, threads knotted and weaving around the needles. She slowly approached Aryia, grasping the rhythm of her chant, she joined…“Knit one purl two, knit two purl one…I grant these words to she with none…”

Time stopped…Aryia’s body grew stiff; she blinked slowly, her eyes revealing a warm red glow. Her body continued to rock and sway as the needles clicked in her hands. Not by her own will, but by the rhythms that possessed her. Aryia’s grandmother approached the willow tree. She rested her right hand on Aryia’s head and her left on the tree’s trunk. She smiled, it was a sinful and maniacal grin only those capable of true evil could achieve.

The tree began to buzz. Aryia’s grandmother continued her chant, “Knit one purl two, knit two purl one, at last my child our time has come.” Both lifted high off the ground, their bodies now engulfed in a bright golden light. Her grandmother never removed her hands from where they lay.

Slowly, her grandmother’s body merged into Aryia’s. Her cackle grew louder as she was pulled into her granddaughter, until she had been completely consumed.

Aryia was gently lowered to the ground. The sky cleared, the earth’s rumble ended…all was as it were… and with a hereditary grin, Aryia continued…

“Knit two…purl three…knit three…purl two…”

I'm learning how to knit, so writing this story was so much fun!

I'm trying to convince myself not to continue with the story 😆

Let me know what you think in the comments! 

Jeri💕🕯️