A pinch of purpose

“Ouch!”   I squealed in pain, “Mum, she pinched me, she pinched me!”

My little sister giggled and skipped away down the stairs and out the front door.
I chased after her, rubbing my sore arm and declaring that she would rue the day she pinched me.  

One minute I had been reading quietly, engrossed in my book, then next minute, she stretched out her hand, grabbed hold of my skinny arm and pinched it hard. She grinned her mischievous grin, poked out her tongue and then she ran away.

“You got it wrong,” I yelled after her.  “It’s not the first of the month yet. Besides which, it should be a pinch and a punch – just wait till I catch you…”
Yet I couldn’t catch her at all. She was too quick for me as she darted into the back yard.  

“Where was she hiding?” I pondered. Maybe this was what she had planned – I had refused her first request to play hide and seek, yet here I now was, seeking to find her hiding place.

I counted loudly “ 1, 2…miss a few… 99, 100.  Coming ready or not” 
I stopped, I listened and yes sure enough, there was a muffled giggle coming from amongst the flowers at the  bottom of the garden. No fairies there – I know this having looked for them myself when I was but a three year old pixie.

I sneaked over to the wild flowers rustling in the breeze. There she was, grinning again. How could I refuse that cuteness. “Gotcha” I called, “now its your turn to count.

I guess her pinch had served its purpose.

Putting My Feet in the DirtOctober’s Writing prompts.This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.

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