Rows of garlic on a farm. (Photo: Gary Weathers/Getty Images)
The other local farmers had an easement agreement with Straen so they could cross his land and water their herds, but Keekik’s passionate desire for emulation put him above the law, or so he believed. True, he had no herds of his own, being only sixteen, and a stable hand on Logi’s farm, but now, crouching behind a tree at the edge of Straen’s property, he felt that ownership was inherently evil, and that resources should be available to all who desired access.
Experiencing an almost ethereal since of giddiness at his self-assigned empowerment, the excitable lad sprung from his hiding place, across the artificial boundary between Logi’s and Straen’s farms, and ran with enough vigor to clean his employer’s stables for a week (though he loathed the task).
Racing past the soil enhancement equipment, he knew exactly what he was going to say. His words would be exoteric when he arrived at the lake where all of the caretakers for the farmers were watering the herds of cukol.
Finally, he passed the last open gate that gave him entry to the gathering at the water. The thin, pale skinned boy climbed up a dozer machine that was sitting idle for the moment, took a wide stance, raised his arms above his head and cried, “Brothers and sisters, hear me,” as loud as he could.
© Karen Rawson
“You’re building a cabin here, Grandpa? Why?”
“There’s nothing here, Cece. I’ll have that wreck up top demolished and put my cabin there.”
The eleven-year-old still couldn’t understand. “But no electricity, plumbing, or wifi? Yikes.”
“Solar will provide electricity, and the water and sewage lines run this far out. No wifi’s the point”
“People my age get tired of the constant bombardment of opinions in social media.”
“Turn off your computer.”
“What will we do when I visit?”
“Hike, fish, explore the beauty of nature. This is where real life happens, not on Facebook and twitter.”
I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields photo writing challenge. The idea is to use the image above to inspire crafting a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is 100.
I saw the challenge right after looking at Facebook and twitter, and frankly, sometimes the demand and entitlement qualities of some of the comments are pretty hard to take. I’m torn, because the internet has also become an important information source for me, as well as a method of communication (hence this blog), but it’s a double-edge sword.
Today’s wee tale is my commentary on all that. Sometimes you have to turn everything off for a while and walk away, remembering that social media is an illusion and real life exists “out there”.
To read other stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.