Marketta Qasim

The Tale of the Wenzelwerf

“Cold again” she thought, as she snatched the heavy gray house coat down that hung from her bed post. She promptly wrapped the house coat tightly around her body, tying the gray cloth belt into a firm knot, as if the strength of the belt would prevent any more heat from escaping her body. “Always cold” she thought, as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. A wave of shivers began creeping their way through her small body just as she settled into a sitting position. She hastily reached for the pair of matching gray slippers that sat waiting for her barely sticking from underneath the bed, soft and warm inside the slipper warmer. In their carefully positioned place at the bottom of the old wooden bedpost. With a wide yawn she hurriedly slid one foot after the other into the welcoming warmth of the slippers. Raising her fisted hands in the air, she stretched allowing the thoughts of an eventless morning to run wild in her mind. She smiled as she allowed herself to fall softly back onto the bed. The sultriness from the slippers rushed through her, sending the chill of the morning air fleeing from her body.