Monday, August 18, 2014

Flash Fiction - The Furnace 04/08/14

The task here was to create a scene.


The Furnace
The blackened chimneys of the steelworks have been towering over the town for what seemed like an eternity. Like guards watching over the townsfolk over centuries hustling and bustling under the castle in the olden days.

Seeing generations of young men entering through the forbidding gates made of steel and barbed wire, coughing them back out after a few decades of pouring burning iron into the golden lined purses of Mr. and Mrs. Fuck-Off-you-peasant-bastards with permanent blackened faces lining the red eyes of tired and sick old men, who have nothing left to live for other than sitting on rotting porches drinking piss beer waiting to die.

Jack had joined to the queue like his father and grandfather before him. Within a few short years it seemed he had fast forwarded into old age, turning into a carbon copy of something he still wasn’t sure it was a good thing or simply stupid.

Looking across the car park he saw a 1978 C3 Chevrolet Corvette, with the black and silver stripe painting and the 5.7ltr. engine of the limited edition to mark the 25th anniversary of the most beautiful car ever having been built… Just like the one he had bought in the mid 1990s when all his mates were either into the Camaros, the 1990s Ford Mustangs or the silly Pontiac Trans Am. He had to sell his when the twins arrived. Back then it seemed a sacrifice worth making. Now he saw a young lad stepping out of what was certainly his most prized possession. Jack could see the pride and joy in the young man’s face looking at his car. It was like looking into a mirror. Damn, was that only 15 years ago? Maybe even less?? Time had become the steady drip feed of poison that began to drain the life out of a body that was not that old and worn out yet. He didn’t dare think any further so he switched off the radio in his people carrier piece of heaving shit and his brain like he did every morning…




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