I’m dying.
I’ve been riding this train to visit my children, well now, my grandchildren, for over thirty years. My dear wife Jeannie passed away six years ago, bless her. I’m the only one left of my generation and the docs say the cancer is spreading.
It’s spreading across our land as well. That old shantytown used to be a neighborhood sheltering good working men, families, children playing ball in the street.
The world’s falling apart and it doesn’t matter which party promises to bring prosperity. We are no longer represented. I pray I die before the bloodshed of revolution.
It’s Wednesday and time again to participate in Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ 14 February 2025 edition of Friday Fictioneers. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a poem or short story no more than 100 words long. My word count is exactly 100.
I keep seeing all kinds of messages in news and social media about how bad the current administration is and how, if the other person had been elected, everything would be good and right.
While the presentation of each major American political party looks dramatically different, in the end, they’re both driven more by what the party wants (money, power) than what the people want. They just tell the people (or some of them) what they want to hear based on the marketing produced by political, social, and commercial institutions which want money and power.
The old man in my story sees only one solution: revolution. Unfortunately, depending on who starts it, it could be called rioting, or insurrection, or a bunch of other things other than the will of the people who have lost control of the governance of our nation.
I hope this is just fiction (yes, I know Friday is Valentine’s Day, but the muse wasn’t interested in that).
To read more stories based on the prompt, visit inllnkz.
I recently participated in a podcast promoting the anthology Shoot the Devil 3: Martyr’s Militia. My short story “The Book of Names” appears in its pages.
You can watch the ninety minute conversation between me and the other authors on https://www.youtube.com/live/qIGZAddSpk4, and if so, please leave a like and if you are so inclined, subscribe.
A number of my stories are due to appear (more or less) soon and I’ll keep you posted. Yes, I’m still writing.


Blimey! That’s desolate
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It sure is and I think it’s how more than a few people feel.
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A somber piece indeed. I’m sure he fears for those he’ll leave behind.
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With such a short word count, I couldn’t include that but yes he does.
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Shantytown is a perfect name for what’s in the photo. Drive across Michigan and you’ll see them all along the way. Someone is sucking the lifeblood out of the little people.
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Such a terrible way to live and die.
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I’m with you on being thankful I’m on the back forty of this time in history.
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Unfortunately, a lot of people aren’t, Violet. Thanks.
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A prelude to a dystopian world. The train tracks run through the country’s backyards to expose the hidden truth of the other side of life.
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They do indeed, James. Thanks.
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I think you summed it up nicely, both in your story and your footnote. The only escape is inwards.
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Or outwards, but that way will no doubt be violent.
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You’re captured well the weariness that so many people have right now. I feel for him, and for the world.
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Me too, Angela. Thanks.
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It’s hard to hold on when it’s all so bleak. I’m glad this is a fictional character. Nicely written
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Thank you, Laurie.
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Matches the prompt perfectly. I see what he sees.
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Thanks, Dawn.
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