A shrine to resilience, that’s what it was. Above ground, their world lay in ruin. Houses scattered for miles like so many toothpicks, fields covered in was once hot and ready to pour in effort to meet the Christmas demand. But, here below, the shrine to humanities resolve lay pleasantly chilled.
I pulled a bottle off the shelf. There weren’t any groceries left to feed the people. So, I say, let them drink the wine. At least for a few hours they won’t care that their life is forever altered….
Author’s Note: Continue in prayers for our neighbors in Southwest Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, etc. as tornadoes have ravaged the land and the people. The destruction is vast, the hope is endless! I am pleased that my friend and mentor is alive and well, as is his family. Their home took a little damage, but is salvageable. God is GOOD! ALL the time! Amen! It is hard, though, to see the little ones so worried that Santa won’t come to them.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here. This week’s photo has been graciously donated by: Our beloved hostess, Rochelle!