Thursday, February 21, 2013

Farmstead Wisdom


He stood for the longest time, staring in mute sadness at all that remained of the barn he had helped his own father to build. Side by side, sweating as much blood as water, they had, constructed something from  raw materials that was, upon completion, a structure they could both be justifiably proud of. 

Of the many lessons his father had tried so fervently to teach him, one truism remained to him inviolate. While all else might change, the land was forever…respect the land. Gazing upon the ramshackle building, no longer a man but merely a spirit, he wished above all else he’d been able to teach his son that one simple thing his father had taught him so many years before. 


This story was written for the weekly Friday Fictioneers weekly flash fiction prompt based upon a photo by Janet Webb.

10 comments:

  1. It's worth the effort if you build a spirit through the construction.

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  2. Dear Jeffrey,
    Lots of nice stuff in this piece. "sweating as much blood as water..." I liked that.
    From one generation to the next. We do the best we can and hope for the better.
    shalom,
    Rochelle

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  3. Jeffrey, I like your entire piece--the sadness of seeing something so special eroding, the remembrance of the time spent together, and respect for the land. I learned a love of land from my dad and am thankful for it. (But he's still here, not a spirit yet.)

    janet

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  4. Like mine, yours is a time piece and not really a story, but a telling evocation of past promise. Nicely rendered.

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  6. Nice take on the prompt. Lots of lessons in this story.

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  7. That would be hard, to see something you spent building with so much effort deteriorate. It was quite a shock to find out that he was dead as he stood looking at the barn. It puts a whole new spin on things. Very nice story.

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  8. Nice job. Wonder what happened to the son, though. Kinda sad.

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  9. What a great story of generation changes. I could say epic :-)

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  10. All fathers wish to pass on wisdom as they nurture their children. We never know which words will stick and which will remain a mystery.

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