A Drabble for a Tuesday

A Drabble, 100 words, one story.

Organic Farming
Frost crystals danced on a frozen crust of snow and filled the wells of her feet. Her gloveless hands were white and she flexed them against the cold.
Smoke tendrils rose from paint-crusted slats; when the propane bottles exploded, so did the cracked and dusty windows.
The barn where her father and brothers had so often called her.
Neighbors whispered of a curse. So many accidents. So much death.
She saw it as progress; once the barn was gone, she’d be free to sow her vegetable gardens come spring. The land finally freed of the toxins of her youth.


Large Marge said...

That was superb!!!

Hey, did you see this?

Quin Browne said...

oh, i love when i get a grin from a story..

: )

missalister said...

Oooh, creepy. Seems to me you’re creativity game is crankin’ fast toward off-the-charts!