The Final Blow

With hammer in hand and gripped for the blow. My umpteenth visit to uncle Harold’s abandoned farmstead produced little fruit. Disposal is everlasting. I was uncle Harry’s favorite runner. My sister his favorite dancer, and the favorites list went on.

Mom questioned Harold’s judgment. Firecrackers, slingshots, and coming home after dark my friend, my uncle Harry invented excitement. We installed the Kohler together, he taught me basic plumbing.  This summer is a lesson of endearment.

I don’t want to liquidate. The back shed is not an eyesore. It is a treasure. One day we will walk together. Jesus promised.

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Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based lon this week’s prompt, visit HERE.