Photo Prompt: (C) J Hardy Carroll
Grandpa scratched his thin beard, the turkey wattle flapping on his neck. “Dammit, we used to make things, we were somebody.”
I didn’t know why he’d brought me to this derelict building, or what he wanted to teach me. Grandpa was just an old man, to be humoured.
“Can’t see how you’re ever going to amount to anything, Josh.” A sad shake of his head. “You can’t make a world out of selling each other insurance policies and burgers.”
Now, fifteen years on, with the DNA price crashing, Grandpa’s message makes sense. I stare bleakly at my own wasteland.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find It here.