100 words
Lightning necklaces the sky as Cordell Reno dashes into the bushes with a lunch sack stolen off the WPA supervisors’ truck. He’d lifted each bag, comparing, then grabbed the heaviest one. I’ll get found out...the drive boss will can me for sure. Work’s scarce, but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t eaten anything but flour all week, and his stomach is scraping up against the back of his spine.
"We’re poor people, son. We got our own laws," his dad says.
Safely hidden with his prize, mouth watering, he opens the bag.
Inside is a bunch of black walnuts, and a hammer.
Sarah Holland lives in Maine. Her fiction has appeared at Six Sentences.
Copyright © 2008 Sarah Holland
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