Time for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers again. Every week, more than hundred people take the challenge of writing a story in 100 words for a photo prompt. Go and take a look, leave a like, and a comment, or join the fun. You can read all the entries here:
If you like what you read, return often, because posting is open until Tuesdays, and there are always new, amazing stories. I actually wrote two drabbles for this image, the first was a somewhat sappy love story (trashed it); the second is the one I’m posting here (100 words). It’s fun to experiment; flash fiction is just the right medium for this.
What a beautiful morning, Pat thought to herself as she watched the early sunlight paint the trees golden. And such a pretty place, too, almost like home.
As a child, she played in a place like this: with a creek, and trees, and even an old bridge. Those were the days.
She blew on her coffee and sighed. There wasn’t much time left, her work must be done. Summer was over, first frost had covered everything with pretty crystals. But pretty wasn’t important, infrastructure and jobs were, at least to her. She took one last look, and started her bulldozer.