Reading Time: 2 minutes

She should have been called ‘Helen of Forks’.


Her name is Helen. And she is the queen of forks.

It began with a curiosity for pointed objects at the naïve age of five. A girl with tight curls kept an eye out for sharp items. Her mother’s kitchen became a playground for her fascination.

Knives, scissors, toothpicks, and the blades of the food processor. But Helen’s predilection for forks remained unbeaten. A fork had not one but four pointed tines. It was the mother of all sharp creatures.

There was no time for dolls and teddies. Helen spent her beloved childhood raiding drawers and cupboards, filling her purple knapsack with forks of contrasting shapes and sizes. Some thin and long, others broad and heavy, but none escaped her whimsical liking.

Helen’s mother found her daughter’s freakish obsession nonsensical. The headache of buying replacements added to her aggravation. And doubting Helen’s mental balance, the woman sat her down one day, in hope of solving the maddening dilemma.

But the young girl only said what came to her naturally.

‘Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a fork.’

The statement was a young mind’s utter nonsense, but Helen’s mother deciphered much more from it. She set out to find the remedy for a crazy daughter. Her child had gone on to the other side (of sanity).

Doctors and psychologists, near and far, told the anxious woman that Helen’s love for forks was a passing phase. Children often displayed such silly tendencies.

Helen grew. And tired of her mother’s complaints. It was best she bid goodbye to her sharp buddies.

Now Helen is nineteen, living on her own, a waitress in a snazzy diner. She loves her job and its perks. A suitcase full of forks – the perfect incentive.

A babe in its mother arms. The perfect picture? An angry soul has returned to seek revenge in Yellow Eyes Still Haunt Me.

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13 Comments on “Helen Of Forks – Flash Fiction Story

  1. Wow, you weren’t forking around with this story, were you? Straight and to the point, this is a sharply written piece that cuts through the malarkey and stabs at the heart childhood obsessions.

    Pardon the puns, I couldn’t help myself.

    I have to admit that I have a…I’m not sure what to call it, disorder and afflictions are too harsh, but whenever I read, see, or hear a story, it reminds me of another story.

    This reminds me of a news story about a woman who visited her doctor with complaints of a severe stomachache. After an x-ray, she was rushed to the hospital and a surgeon removed 78 forks and spoons from her stomach. It turned out that she had a form of pica called acuphagia and she was obsessed with eating cutlery.

    I realize that Helen’s fascination with forks didn’t lead to their consumption, and hopefully not self-harm or harm to others, and this of course made me curious about the inspiration for this piece.

    Anyway, and odd yet interesting post. Nicely done.

  2. Your puns are very impressive. Their wit and originality are highly appreciated. And I am so happy that you manage to squeeze a story from a story. They are always so relevant.
    And speaking of obsessions and afflictions, we all have some or the other.
    Helen’s was forks, mine are meant to be disclosed another day.
    Or are they spilling through my stories?
    Your generous comments always make my day. They are delightful and leave me with much more to say. 🙂

  3. My puns were childish but thank you for being gracious enough not to admonish me publicly. And you needn’t be coy about your predilection for prongs because there are no judgments here. You may pine for tines to your heart’s content. I will keep your silverware secret.

    • Thanks for this hearty laugh! You are very punny. 🙂 Please don’t mind this sad (inexperienced) attempt.

  4. I know I would have thought the same, a child playing with sharp objects. It does make one realize of the irrelevancies sometimes. So much in the story, Terveen:)

    • Thank you so much Shobana. Sometimes reading too much or too little into a situation is a tricky decision. We all have our own dispositions and obsessions. 🙂

  5. Pingback: The Vegetable Vendor - Flash Fiction Story | It Ain't Right Till I Write

  6. If I was the mother and I knew that the daughter wasn’t using the forks to harm others or herself, I would’ve simply allowed her to continue to like forks. It’s not harming anyone and being different and having unique interests is sometimes a good thing. In response to her disapproval, her daughter did what anyone else would do – continue liking the forks behind her mother’s back. Now there is a slight wedge in their relationship. Not everything happens for a reason or is part of some bigger psychological issue – sometimes a fork is merely a fork. And having a child that’s different doesn’t mean that she’s crazy. I wish the mother had seen that. I’ve been reading through your stories for the past half hour or so and it’s been paradise stepping in and out of completely different, beautifully-crafted worlds like this one. Each post I open is like stepping into another door in the universe. Onto the next!

    • Mothers have a tendency to smother. It’s not like they mean actual harm, it’s probably a maternal reaction to save their children from mistakes and prevent emotional and physical disaster. But in this role of savior, mothers tend to forget that their children are unique identities and not just their extensions.
      And the girl finally gives up in front of her mother, secretly carrying on her obsession for forks. And once she’s free and independent, she guarantees nothing stops her from pursuing her quirky interests.
      I appreciate the time you take out and the keen fondness with which you read these stories. It makes me want to write even better and harder for my beloved readers. Lots and lots of thanks and may this bond flourish. 🙂

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