The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, May 17th. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)
This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, May 26th, 2017.
The bulldozer sat abandoned. He’d meant to arrive earlier, watch the end of shift, but want and reality often diverged. Not that it made any difference at this point.
Climbing into the cab, he thought about his family. He’d never known his father; had always thought that was why he’d grown up as he did. He’d needed something in which to believe.
Man had made a mess of his world. Everything green had been destroyed, leaving nothing but man-made concrete and steel in its place. Why didn’t they understand? They were killing the world, killing themselves. But then man wasn’t the smartest of species.
Now or never.
Unscrewing the gas can, he poured the liquid over the cab, soaking the seat, splashing the controls and floor.
Mankind just didn’t understand.
It was time to make them understand.
Sitting, he pulled out his matches and struck a spark.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Maria with Doodles and Scribbles.
Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.
2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.
3. Please credit photo to photographer.
4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.
Susan wanted to get married. He wanted to get married, just not to her. All week his brain had been jumping back and forth, searching for the right answer to the problem. He didn’t want to break her heart; she thought he loved her. And he did, just not in a marrying-raise-a-family kind of way.
Sue was a city girl, easy amid the hustle and noise of a big city. He was a country boy, at home under the wide-spread sky, silent but for the wind and the call of a hawk.
It wasn’t gonna work, no matter how many times he assured himself it would.
Back on shore, he pulled on his boots and mounted his horse, turning the mustang’s head towards home.
A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Even when it hurts.