My son laid, Sinkpe before the fire. His wife was shivering from head to toe. She mumbled incoherently as I removed her wet clothes and covered her with blankets. I sung to her as I pulled her hair away from her face. I gave my son a warm stone wrapped in a towel to place on her belly and instructed him to lay with her under the blankets. I turned my attention to my daughter who had blood running down her arm.
For centuries, they have knocked us down. Always we stand back up again, and still we stand strong.
word count: 100
written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle challenges us to complete a story in 100 words or less. This week’s story is dedicated to the Water Protectors at Standing Rock #NoDAPL Photo prompt provided by © Jan Wayne Fields Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. To read more or to submit your own story click the froggy below.