I DARE you... (Open)
Jan 13, 2010 16:45:31 GMT -5
Post by vividwriter on Jan 13, 2010 16:45:31 GMT -5
Forsynthia.
The hard, rough wood of the wheel barrow handles in my hands threatens to send splinters into my hands. I think I already have several, added to the ones I got yesterday, the day before, and a couple days before that. My job is transporting fruit from the orchards, to the place where it's shipped off to the capitol.
This job is especially tortuous, because with all the fruit just within reach, and my stomach growling so, I could easily be shot.
But I keep my stomach under control, and hope no one crosses my path. I'm in an especially rotton mood today.
I finally reach my destination, and some other workers unload my wheelbarrow as I rest. Then they are finished, and it's time for me to head back to the orchard.
On my way back, which is considerable better than the way to the unloading station, I am conscience of someone nearing me, pushing their wheelbarrow. Someone clears their throat, and I look over.
"Yes?" I irritatedly answer.
The hard, rough wood of the wheel barrow handles in my hands threatens to send splinters into my hands. I think I already have several, added to the ones I got yesterday, the day before, and a couple days before that. My job is transporting fruit from the orchards, to the place where it's shipped off to the capitol.
This job is especially tortuous, because with all the fruit just within reach, and my stomach growling so, I could easily be shot.
But I keep my stomach under control, and hope no one crosses my path. I'm in an especially rotton mood today.
I finally reach my destination, and some other workers unload my wheelbarrow as I rest. Then they are finished, and it's time for me to head back to the orchard.
On my way back, which is considerable better than the way to the unloading station, I am conscience of someone nearing me, pushing their wheelbarrow. Someone clears their throat, and I look over.
"Yes?" I irritatedly answer.
