Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

A quote: “Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil and you’re a thousand miles from the corn field.” ~~ Dwight D. Eisenhower

I’ll start with a story …

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Scavenged pieces of lumber, windows and latches from the dump, all manner of flotsam and jetsam were hauled to a sunny corner of farm, hidden from the road.

They had no drawn plans, indeed their knowledge of building anything was limited to stacking empty Solo cups on a frat house dining table.

But that life was gone and the pathetic few of them left sweated and swore and blistered assembling the pieces as she had decreed in exchange for room and board.

Wiping her gnarled hands on her apron as she nodded at the greenhouse. “Now, your real lessons begin.”

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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.

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7 Comments
  • Mary Lewis says:

    Looking at me through horn-rimmed glasses he points at my little patch of dirt.
    “It’s easy, just plant.”

    Interesting,eh? What’s that sticking up?

    Sunshine, rain, wind, Mrs, Nature. Who named her “Mother”?

    Hoe? Sure, why not? Shovel? What for? Hose, now there’s an item…water!

    Dang it, what’s that sticking out? A long stem under those leaves, snaking around, lurking there like a lost dog.

    “I’m in the Garden!” note on the locked back door.

    “Garden?” he says, looking forlornly at my dirt.

    Grinning insanely I offer my gift.

    Lovely, green, waxy, dewey, long…….zucchini!

    “It’s easy, eat it!”

  • Quentin Q Quill says:

    Living on the “commune” was a challenge to the White family after their comfortable life in suburbia.That life was gone now that the New World Order had arrived. When their money ran out, their best option was to move to the “commune” run by the horrendous Mrs. Green. Suddenly, the air is split by the crack of a whip. “Hey you damned crackers, get busy cleaning out that greenhouse if you want your turnip soup tonight.” White slavery really is the shits, Mrs.White said under her breath as stepped on a dead rat.

  • Marjorie Taylor Scream says:

    The family fled to the abandoned house near the edge of the woods the day the Great One’s votes were multiplied by .666 by the cabal, making him lose the election. Bobo, or “Rambo Bimbette” as her friends and relatives called her, and her husband had a volatile relationship, made all the more so by the Great Collapse. With disdain Bobo’s husband sneered at her and said, “if you cant’ be the sharpest tool in the shed, at least you can be a ho.” Gesturing wildly with her hands, Rambo Bimbette shrieked, “I’m gonna shoot you in your dong.”

  • Navig8r says:

    The greenhouse had been relegated to a tool shed when Gram and Gramps got too old to tend garden. Parents, aunts, and uncles came by in rotation to help with the minimum of yard upkeep. Aunt Sarah inherited the place after Gram and Gramps passed. Her interests weren’t horticultural, so the vines grew and shaded the greenhouse. She was getting old now, and needing someone around. With grocery stores getting empty, volunteering to move in and help her wasn’t a hard decision. Time to trim the vines. Hope she can pass on what Gram and Gramps taught her about gardening.

  • Cameron says:

    “Organic free range produce?” she asked.
    I nodded. “I do take the plants out of the shed for light.”
    She pointed at the next bullet item. “Fair trade with indigenous farmers?”
    “My family has been here for five generations. We’re more native than the customers. What’s inaccurate about that?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Cruelty free?”
    “I harvest the plants humanely.” I held up the roll of cash and the credit card reader “And if people want to buy it, what’s the harm?”
    “Your grandfather would be laughing about this.”
    “Wait until you see the soap I’m making for next week.”

  • Leigh Kimmel says:

    Mildred watched the three frat boys struggle and strain to put together the greenhouse, getting in each other’s way as often as not. She’d never seen such sorry work, so many bent nails and misaligned boards, or heard so much grumbling about aching muscles. Then again, their idea of hard work was probably an hour or two of pumping iron to get those buff physiques she’d taken as indication they were up to the job.

    On the other hand, given how soft these guys clearly were, she doubted they’d give her any trouble, unlike those gang-bangers who’d showed up last week. Those guys were now sleeping quite soundly, out in the gully by the creek. Moving all the dirt had meant using gas for the Bobcat, but they were now six foot under, gold grilles, fat wallets, weapons and all. She wanted nothing further to do with them.

  • Dupin says:

    Behind the shed. Dad was going to take me behind the shed.

    That shed had been many things…many failures of his. Greenhouse, chicken coop, etc. Now it was the shed, such as it was. Run-down…broken down. Just like Dad.

    I was one of his failures. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, so he failed in raising me. I saw things differently, did things differently. I succeeded…he didn’t like that.

    I didn’t do anything wrong, just disagreed. He’d forgotten that I was bigger than him now. This would be the last time he took me behind the shed.

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