Oh, how he dreaded the harvest; the air thick, burning his throat with brittle hay dust, as day after day he toiled under the merciless, unrelenting sun.
When the farmer forked another load onto the cart, he lowered his head in weary resignation.
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Short, not so sweet Magpie Tale...
Nice bit of flash fiction!
ReplyDeleteThank you. It's funny what we see in pictures, isn't it? I didn't care about the pastel colors, or the bucolic scene. All I saw was that poor horse. ;)
DeletePoor horse...
ReplyDeleteTruly. Can you imagine having to endlessly pull that cart?
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