Once upon a time, there was a tiny ball of fuschia Lion Brand Microspun yarn.She was all that was left from a project long finished. Fuschia laid in the bottom of a box of random craft supplies for over two years before, to her excitement, a hand fished her out of the box and into the light of day. She saw herself being twisted toward a pair of large needles and excitement filled her – she was about to fulfill her spun-tiny*.

For the few hours she was elated to be united once again with the needles and fingers, but as she was knitted, she realized that the sock she was being crafted into was large enough for the foot of Hagrid the half-giant, not for the dainty foot of the one knitting her. Who was this large creature that would be her master?

Throughout the next few days she discovered that her knitter was not the only one interested in her bright colors and soft, chewy texture.

She felt that she was always being watched with great interest by 3 pairs of eyes, rather than just 1. Many times when she was left out on the coffee table, or even when she was tucked away in the knitting bag, large, furry, noisy creatures would grab her in their teeth when she least suspected it and begin to shake, bite, and unroll her, like the opposite of a snowball until she was nothing but a heap of tangled cotton candy.

Time and again the noisy creatures would be scolded, lightly spanked, and her knitter would lovingly re-roll her ball and continue knitting the odd-shaped sock.

Eventually, because she was such a small amount of yarn, she was all knitted up, and instead of being matched with another ball of her clones from the store, she was attached to a distractedly different color – Turquoise -

Oh, she was so ugly, so large and misshapen, and while she knew her knitter loved her, there were glaring mistakes that appeared to go unnoticed, or, dare she think, purposefully left out of laziness??

It was apparent that her dreams of being a lovely, cherished pair of socks were to be crushed when her knitter appeared to grow bored of finishing the foot and began decreasing into the toe 4 inches too early. “oh well, at least she’s finishing me,” she thought. Her kitchener-stitched toe was lazily pulled together, and her ends weaved in jaggedly, leaving bumps that looked like scars upon her smooth stockinette stitches. What was to become of her? Who would love her since she was now big enough to fit several large feet inside of her!

Fortunately, her pain would not last long.

Promptly after finishing her, the hands that had spent so many hours knitting her on those awkward double pointed needles, turned her heel so carefully, kept her gussets tight and smooth… those hands took a second to examine her, laughed out loud, and stuffed her with quilt batting, bells, and doggy treats, cinched up the top, and threw her to the evil yarn-eaters!

They fought over her, growled at each other, smooshed the doggy treats through her gorgeous pink fibers, and as she breathed her last breath, they ripped her in half and devoured her contents. Her knitter unceremoniously took pictures of her, giggled, and threw her in the trash. And thus ended the short, sad life of the ugly, abused sock.

*ok, i know, it’s horrible, but i wanted to use spinning in there somewhere