There’s a silo in the field just over that hill. It’s empty. It’s been empty for years.
The farmer built it thirty years ago. It was meant to hold grain from the surrounding fields. It just never worked out that way. Not enough rain. Too much rain. Not enough rain again. The crop was never successful. The silo was never filled.
The farmer’s wife tried to console him. ‘It’s too late now.’
She sighed deeply before suggesting, ‘Maybe we should accept the fact and just stop trying.’
He looked across at the empty fields. His empty arms. His empty house.Follow @jessieansons
Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.