At Beauty’s End

I understand the risks. Watering flowers at windows while tan-clowns howl momma’s old songs, and business boys smear their laws against buildings and batter tramps for sport.

They’ve burnt all the trees so books can’t be printed, they say. And soon they’ll beat me and seize my plants. I’ll lie. If I say they’re money plants, maybe they’ll let them survive.

The curfew is almost here — legions of new boys are already shrieking on the stairs. I lie on my bed and watch my white orchid turn red, reflecting fires from another horror-bus below.

Something will be less beautiful tomorrow.

(100 words)

© 2017 Occasional Dreams
In response to: Friday Fictioneers, 3 February 2017
Image by:  Roger Bultot

Thanks to Rochelle for organising and coordinating these Friday Fictioneer Challenges.


4 Replies to “At Beauty’s End”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s