Good day to you, my fine and lovely people.
Would you like a piece of Flash Fiction to get you going?
OK, before we do, I’m not going to lie to you.
This one is pretty bleak – if you didn’t order a side order of drama to go with your coffee/tea/juice/Coke, then it’s best you look away now. Don’t worry, we won’t judge you (you sissy).
[Don’t judge people too quickly!]
Let me know what you think about it, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts as always and thank you for reading.
Our Utopia (by David Ellis)
You never really appreciate something until it’s gone. People always say this phrase and you never pay it much mind, until you’re on the receiving end. Until you’re on the other end of the baton, being generously given your reward.
Things could be worse I guess.
Seeing this world through the eyes of a child springs to mind.
First it was one at a time. Then they started rounding us up in groups. From time to time, the old, sick and the pregnant found their way into our ranks.There was little opportunity to develop relationships.
None of them lasted very long. None of them except this one.
She was young, strong, determined, a feisty character. She told me she was six months into her pregnancy when they kidnapped her and brought her here. Twice she got violently sick but somehow she managed to pull through, her resolve concrete, her will to live resolute and her determination unwavering to give life to her unborn child. We waited on tenterhooks; she missed her due date by a full week.
Then a miracle happened.
She gave birth.
It was a shock to see them do it here, with no medical facilities but needs must when the devil drives. The terrifying thing for us all is that the destination her child is headed to is completely unknown. Her mother hopes that one day her little daughter may be loved, will make it through this, will be cherished and can find a better life.
Will she be offered up to the faceless Gods that rule over us? Or will she be cast aside like an imperfect stone?
Only time will tell.
But for now, we get our hour of sunshine, its sweet warmth caressing away the aches, pains and crushing tiredness of the toilsome labour of the day.
And we get our bowl of gruel, lovingly prepared in the community slop bucket. Maybe some things are not as bad as they seem. At least, not until the anointed hour anyway.
Then anything goes.
But then anything is better than this place.