Another writing prompt for a mid week break. This one comes from 3wordwednesday. I hope you enjoy it and come back for some more interesting flash. Thanks for the read.
They were generous to him, he couldn’t figure out why. He
had never done anything to gain there gratitude. In fact he had probably
treated them more than unfair. He got back on his bicycle, now ladened down
with all the supplies they thought he would need for the next few days. He made
the rigorous trip on dirt roads back to the ole’ spread as Papa always called
it. He kept a good lookout for those bastards. Life had been hard since they
brought “The Program” around here. Many had thought that if we could just give
people super skills, then our economic woes would be over. They moved westward from
D.C. trying to be just in how they picked their guinea pigs. They weren’t, and
most died horrible deaths from the reactions to the treatments. But those who were
not twisted to death or whose disfigurement was on the inside, lurked along
routes like bandits. He had already blasted a few off the property, but had yet
had a face to face encounter with any. He
was approaching Pippen Hill, he reached down and grabbed hold of his little .22
pistol while still keeping control of the bike. He clinched his eyes tight and
prayed he could make it up the hill with better time, he didn’t want Papa to
penalize him for taking to long, fetchin’ after the hogs was just too much for
him. He saw a glint at the top of the hill. Was it trash, he thought to
himself, or was it someone laying in wait. He bore down on the pedals, and
gripped the pistol tighter. He wasn’t gonna be late for Papa.
Nice visual images here. Love how he "clinches" his eyes (tho wondering if that's the right word, I feel like I got what you meant, so communication "complete!") and bares down, determined to be their for his Papa. Very nicely done.
ReplyDeleteNicely done piece.
ReplyDeletelove the detail put in this story.Great story more please.
ReplyDelete