Saturday, June 30, 2012

Flash fiction : Desperate measures :

There were no harvest.
The swollen crop turned black.
Like gangrene the gold left the flesh of wheat and died.
It all just gave up in a bloated fit,
It was the absconded rain of last year that came earlier this year.
The flood of life drowned tons of swaying second changes.
The revenue washed away in a deluge of debt.
They needed to pay the thirsty overdraft of the bank and a hungry advance from the Agri.
Pending payment to an inherited John Deere, a new Massey Ferguson with a blown gasket made this strong farmer as defunct as his broken tools.
The seasonal pickers with bundled babies and wages stood in those cursed lands and prayed.
All of them prayed now.
The Misses of inherited acres knows the hurt and damage to seven generations of shattered morale.
One could say that God worked contrary to the expensive forecasts, wishes and happiness of the farmer.
The farmers wife looked at her man and taught him to eat from the forbidden fruit :
' Fatten the livestock with the dead crop and accelerate their growth with hormones'
' Slaughter earlier ' the farmer said and the son wondered about the consumers and his art tour in Europe later the year.

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