... According to Adam Gonk
And so he spent many cold nights, gazing up at the dark sky, pondering, ‘why am I here?'.
The long night drifted into a long day, and thus his time was spent.
Two years elapsed and he still had no answer. He abandoned all hope of conclusion. He had an itch, which he thought better to prioritise.
Renewed, by thought of a solution, he began work on this more immediate dilemma.
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He worked with the materials which the land had provided. A mound, made of twigs, soon formed from his discarded attempts.
Finally, he had done it, he had made his tool. It was robust, with a smooth finish. He had developed it for the specific purpose of scratching a hard to reach spot on his back.
Each day, when the Gonk so desired, he scratched his back.
Five years unfolded, and he knew more than before. He knew the sun rose, to set. He knew the wind blew from the corners of the earth. He knew the fruit was best when allowed to ripen.
Then one day, after a good scratch, he hid his tool under a rock.
He saw the clouds threaten in the distance and hastened to foliage for cover. He waited for the rains to abate, but they did not. The rains turned to snow, and the land was cold. The Gonk managed to make it to a cave with a fist full of berries.
After his meal he became drowsy, and so he slept in the cave.
Unbeknownst to him, he was caught in a flash ice-age. As he drew in breath for a loud snore, he froze.
The world was static, and the only thing that changed was the measure of time.
One day, on the second Tuesday of May, Aleida walked through a meadow. The daughter of a poor farmer, her dreams were greater than her means.
Aleida was an avid knitter and had planned to knit a messy bun beanie hat that day. She stopped and sat in her favourite spot, where she could see the wild flowers in the valley. She ran her hands through the grass and hit a rock. Aleida lifted the rock and there it was, the Gonk’s tool.
Aleida thought it was a lost knitting needle and tried to knit with it. It wouldn’t work and instead caught the yarn on a bend of its design. Then, in a fated moment, she held her WIP in place with a knitting needle and used the tool in her other hand to draw the yarn into a knot.
For a moment she paused, aware that something significant had occurred, but unable to pinpoint just what it was.
She repeated the action and smiled. Aleida declared, “I am knotting this yarn!”.
Overtime, she learnt to hold the WIP in place with her fingers and discarded the knitting needles.
Aledia began to sell her makes at the village market and word spread of her odd tool.
One day, as she set up her stall, a crowd gathered, such was her fame. They had come from far and wide to see her works. They asked, “what is that tool you use to make them?”. “Is it magic?”, one child enquired.
“Guess, it’s called crochet”, said Aledia.
Aledia was commissioned to create crocheted pieces for the wise and the great.
She was known across the lands.
The Gonk, thanks to his odd biology, hibernated throughout the ice-age. He later thawed out and went on to be a great actor.
Edit: This is not the true story of how crochet came to be. Adam Gonk has created a work of fiction (which in turn is a work of fiction).
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