The shoeless boy with frayed trousers often rode the freight train to cattle market. He had a wall-eye and folks called him simple.
Perched atop, he played cowboy tunes on his harmonica to entertain the steers. As they rattled about and clomped their hoofs against containment, he imagined them dancing to his music.
One week, the train broke down and stayed broken. The boy sat for a while, tapping the spit out of his harmonica and thinking so hard the wrinkles in his forehead hurt. When nobody came, he released the steers but forgot to jump out of their way.
#
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo Prompt: image © Jennifer Pendergast
Share this:
Sarah Potter Writes 
Tragic tale, well told.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mick.
LikeLike
You capture this character really well – poor kid with no name.
Such a sad ending!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I really got into this kid’s character when writing about him and am now suffering from a degree of guilt about how things ended up for him.
Perhaps I should challenge myself to write a story with a happy ending next week!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I can see that shoeless boy playing to those steers now… a sad story Sarah, but so well written as always. Have a lovely weekend my friend 🙂 xxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, it is a sad story, Sherri. That poor naive little mite D: I keep thinking about him now.
You have a lovely weekend, too, my friend. Will email you, when I’ve caught that time-gobbling monster and locked him in a cupboard for a few hours 🙂 xxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Sarah, and you take your time, I understand. That time-gobbling monster is on the rampage!!! Think we need to lock him up and throw away the key 😀 xxxx
LikeLike
What a very sad tale, Sarah. 😦 I guess that his ghost will ride the freight train for evermore, and people will here the eerie harmonica music floating on the evening breeze. 😕
LikeLiked by 2 people
How right you are, Sylvia, that’s exactly where I would have taken the story if given a further 100 words!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You took me there alongside him whilst he played. I really liked it despite sad ending.
Writing is a form of magic, to be teleported in your head somewhere else just by reading some well crafted words!
Thx 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, blondeusk. I love your description of writing as a form of magic. And it seem to me, that the more the writer falls under magic’s spell, the more the reader does also:-)
LikeLiked by 1 person
One day I will be able to do what you do so well. I am like a trainee magician!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your comment has made my day and cheered me considerably 🙂 If you are a trainee magician, you’re certainly one on a scholarship! I’m my own worst taskmaster, so I still don’t feel as if I’m out of training, even after more than two decades of writing seriously.
Thanx, blondeusk.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sad end for a very kind boy. Well told.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Alicia. Often fate is no respecter of kindness. I so wish it was otherwise.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh you’re so mean! All he wanted to do was ride the trains and play for the steers. You should feel bad for what you did to him! 😉
Of course I jest. Great story as always…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dale, even if you did pile the guilt on for a moment! 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hee hee….
LikeLike
Suddenly, I felt sorry for the boy … then I remembered that this is just a fiction story. You pulled me in. Nice story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mike. Even I had to remind myself it was fiction, as the boy seemed so real — almost as if I’d crossed paths with him sometime in my life.
LikeLike
I really liked how you described the boy -shoeless and frayed trousers. So sad what happened to him in the end.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Creatopath.
One of the downsides of writing is that sometimes your muse commands you to kill off a character you love D:
LikeLiked by 2 people
Really good tale that. You made him seem quite engaging, and then wham!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sandra 🙂 In some ways, the boy needed longer centre-stage before I killed him off. Maybe, one day I’ll resurrect him as a character in a novel, when I can allocate him more words! You never know.
LikeLike
oh that is sad!! I saw him sitting up there! Well told Sarah!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Cybele. I’ve managed to make everybody sad with that story, even myself D:
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovley, vivid descriptions of the shoeless little boy playing his harmonica. The ending is so sad. Very well written, Sarah.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Millie. I’m so glad you liked my description of the little boy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a lovely story. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Sarah,
Ouch, that had to have hurt. Such a sad thing to happen to a sweet boy like that. I loved your take on the prompt. It’s always so much fun to see what people will come up with.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Rochelle,
Ouch, indeed. I really must make something exceptionally good happen to somebody sometime in one of my 100-word stories!
Nevertheless, I am glad you loved my take on the prompt. Your words are always so encouraging, and greatly appreciated.
All best wishes,
Sarah
LikeLike
Really vivid Sarah, you definitely took me to another place.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Andrea 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh so sad.. what an end.. I guess simple is on way to put it. I love how you managed to capture so much in a slow-moving narrative.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Björn. I continue to feel sad about killing off that poor sweet boy. The pain of us writers having to bend to the will of the Muse in the name of authenticity D:
LikeLike