Today's picture prompt and story starter (in bold at the beginning of the story below) came in from Michelle Wallace.
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Labor like you don’t need money, Father said as he did every time Rob worked in the yard, That will bring you true happiness, my boy.
I already labor like I don't expect nothing, muttered Rob under his breath. The air smelled of dying lichen. It was a wonder Father did not hear him in the stillness of the hills.
Each autumn weekend, Father and Rob would crush the fallen, dry leaves as they walked, Father's gaze sizing up the best oaks to cut, Rob's eyes lowered on his boots dragging over the gravel. Father slid his arm on Rob's shoulder. His hard hand stroked Rob's back, rubbed over the pockets at the back of his fitted jeans, To be young again, my boy, I would give anything for such pleasure.
As usual, Rob flinched, but this time he felt a pulse of hope. Maybe it would work if he asked permission to go for a weekend out camping with the boys right now. Father was always in a generous mood when he talked of pleasure.
Work is worship, Father replied instead, handing him a pair of ratty old gloves that did nothing to save his hands from blisters, Get to work, and no breaks till lunchtime. And remember, happiness, my boy! Look alive! He strode out with a crackle of dead leaves under his feet.
Rob got rid of his jacket, set to work.
I'm happy, he said with each stroke, his arms straining as he lifted the hatchet, One day I'll be truly happy, he continued as he brought it down. The day it is your head right here Father, he said, setting the next log for splitting, that day I would labor like I need nothing else.
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As usual, Rob flinched, but this time he felt a pulse of hope. Maybe it would work if he asked permission to go for a weekend out camping with the boys right now. Father was always in a generous mood when he talked of pleasure.
Work is worship, Father replied instead, handing him a pair of ratty old gloves that did nothing to save his hands from blisters, Get to work, and no breaks till lunchtime. And remember, happiness, my boy! Look alive! He strode out with a crackle of dead leaves under his feet.
Rob got rid of his jacket, set to work.
I'm happy, he said with each stroke, his arms straining as he lifted the hatchet, One day I'll be truly happy, he continued as he brought it down. The day it is your head right here Father, he said, setting the next log for splitting, that day I would labor like I need nothing else.
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If you liked this story you might like some of the stories I wrote for my A to Z last year.
As a co-host, I end with A to Z Challenge reminders:
1. Turn off your word verification. It helps no one. You may moderate comments for a while if you're unsure.
2. In your comment id, link only to your AZ blog, NOT your profile which may have 5 other blogs.
3. Leave a link to you when you comment.
3. Leave a link to you when you comment.
4. Comment when you visit blogs. Start visiting with the blog below you on the linky list.
5. Make it easy for people to follow your blog and follow you on social media.
Cool story! What a nice way to start my day.
ReplyDeleteOh, powerful! Very well written--you (meaning me, of course) can definitely feel the emotions of both characters.
ReplyDeleteDark story, enjoyed reading it.
ReplyDeletehttp://sulekharawat.com/2012/04/13/k-is-for-kitchen-phobia/
Ooo, that had a dark ending.
ReplyDeleteHe's bitter!
ReplyDeleteOK, your story made me worry. I live in northern Michigan and cutting and stacking wood is a family exercise. Of course, we have a mechanical log splitter, so it should be OK.
ReplyDeleteMy husband is excellent at chopping wood. There is a style to it that involves sliding the hands to get maximum impact. If you do it well, you can also do really good at those hammer games at fairs.
Labor lessons for no pay...hard ones to learn especially when the payoff is given and taken as punishment and bitterness....or at least that's my take. I'm sure there's more one could read into the ending. Well done.
ReplyDeletewow i guess that is what it means to provoke your children to wrath
ReplyDeleteChilling - a family secret only hinted at. well done, and a great wrap-up.
ReplyDeleteYes chilling indeed. Reminds me of a drunk that taught the one creative writing class I ever took, he made hints of attraction to young boys - gross.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing!!
Wow, harsh. Didn't expect that ending. I knew he hated the work he was doing but not that much.
ReplyDeleteYikes! What a cliffhanger! :-)
ReplyDeleteSome Dark Romantic
Dark story. Very Friday the 13th appropriate.
ReplyDeleteLove this moody piece! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteAwesome! I've felt that way when working as a kid, and I'm sure mine feel that way now! Ha!
ReplyDeleteNow that's some anger issues !! Very apt for Fri 13th !
ReplyDeleteVery intense. I sensed his pent-up anger and bitterness.
ReplyDeleteThe father in your story reminds me of my own father! :)
ReplyDeletewow...
ReplyDeletei had to read it twice...
and even knowing the ending, i was still chilled at the end...
i always say "no one ever said on their deathbed, i wish i had worked one more day, and just a little bit harder"
The first thing that struck me is that you aren't using quotation marks. I wonder why.
ReplyDeleteVisiting for the A to Z Challenge. We're doing guest post writing tips.
I got a sinister feeling when the father stroked Rob's back, rubbed his behind. Off with his head!
ReplyDeleteEgad! What fantastic writing and veeery ominous. The ending positively surprised me. Eerie man! :-)
ReplyDeleteThat glove looks that its really used for a long time :-)
ReplyDeleteIt had a very creepy third reichish feeling to it...
ReplyDelete*shudders*
ReplyDeleteGreat job Damyanti!
I've always maintained that good, honest, hard work never killed anybody... but your piece lends a twisted meaning to that philosophy!
Ha nice one! Got the subtle hint of dark intentions/deeds on the dad's part, but wonder if it was maybe too subtle?... Hmmm, still, a very good piece!:)
ReplyDeleteIsabella
Fairytale Review: 'Fanta-Ghiro the Beautiful'
This one describes the generation gap very aptly...be it chopping woods or other things kids don't like to be forced at.
ReplyDeleteHope the kid's last thoughts were a mere expression of his anger and frustration and he didn't actually mean them!
Thanks everyone, again, for the time you took to comment on the piece.
ReplyDeleteThe boy was abused by Father, and I just let the undercurrents remain as they are, to be guessed at bythe reader---I guess when (if) I come back to it again, I'll try and decide if I was too subtle (as Isabella pointed out)