The manna fell and the old lady cursed it.
Forty years the manna had fallen in the desert. After forty years her people, her children, had ceased to strive, to question, to think. Wandering in the desert left no time for teaching, for reflection, for advancement. The knowledge of prior generations was lost. Her children knew only obedience, knew only dependence, knew only manna.
She was the last. When she died, her children would be allowed to enter the promised land. But the promise was that of the Pharaoh’s.
Now they would always be slaves.
Word count: 100
Followers might have noticed yesterdays post was missing. I originally intended that post to be on time (meaning about time as a concept, not simply punctual) and how I have tried to fit writing into my busy life. Unfortunately when I got home from work yesterday evening, I had the unpleasant duty of burying my dog, who had passed whilst no-one was home.
I didn’t feel like writing after that.
But a writer writes, and I want to be a writer. So, today I get back into it with a super short one hundred word flash fiction challenge. You can find the photo prompt for this challenge here on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’s blog.
I think how I’m feeling at the moment might have darkened the tone on this story, but I’m not necessarily a good judge.
What do you think?
Edit (22 September 2014): I finally wrote a short piece specifically about my dog, Clark, which can be found here.