A 100 words of fiction for the fabulous Friday Fictioneers. Follow the link and have a go. Let your imagination run riot, paint the town red or dance like a hippo in a tuto, where ever inspiration takes you.
Photo Copyright : Connie Gayer…..(Mrs.Russell)
They called the town Wicked. A rat infested cesspit, where despair lingered on the skin like the stench of stale sweat and cheap whiskey. It was a rotten town.
Men played hard and fought harder.
Women survived. As best they could. In the fields, in the bars, on their backs, anything to survive.
Then the missionaries came, bringing promises and hope. But hope was dangerous. Hope made you want more. Made you feel more, need more. It made the rotten, rottener.
So when the prospectors left and the missionaries moved on, the devil pulled Wicked back into the earth.
And hope caught the last wagon out.