Down Deep
Laughter flew away the day Bert died, Bert’s son John had tried his hardest to keep the family farm going. It had been Bert’s pride and joy. The farm had grown like an acorn, from a few acres to a fully fledged mixed farm of two hundred and ninety acres. Until the day that the rear wheel of the new tractor broke though an old land drain. The tractor had reared up and tipped over backwards crushing Bert. John had been the one to find his father. As John repaired the broken drain he wondered if the laughter would ever return.
Footnote: At the present time I am unsettled with my writing, so I may be a bit slow posting material.
This Post Has 14 Comments
Dear Mike,
A sad tale, well told. My only quarrel is the lack of apostrophes for possessive….Bert’s son, Bert’s pride and joy. (They belonged to Bert, therefore require the punctuation). Aside from that it’s a good story filled with pathos.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you Rochelle, I always have had a problem with apostrophes, in fact with English grammar. I just can not relate to it.
Good story. The loss of someone so vital is like the breakdown of the drive chain. But I believe he’ll recover and carry on. Sounds like he was well trained.
Sadly in his thoughts he is not a farmer. Thank you Christine
Very sad to find one’s parent dead in the ditch. I hope you settle in your story writing soon 🙂
I guess that many storytellers, have such moment. Thank you Mike
How sad. Hope you settle down to your writing soon. I know how that feels.
Thank you Sandra, I guess that many storytellers have such moments.
This made me sad! (In a good way!)
Sometimes writing is a lot of work filled with confusion and dissatisfaction. You’l come through this time ready to write like a madman. 😉
Thank you Alicia, I hope so, and thank you again. Mike
A touching tale …. very well crafted.
Thank you yarnspinnerr, thank you again.
A sad story – I hope you find a new writing seam to mine very soon. I know the feeling. Sometimes I just cannot get off the starting blocks.
Thank you jilly, I guess that many storytellers have such moments, may the nib of our pens find there rhythm and the stories flow