In keeping with the minimum-creative-work-capacity provided by the stimulus of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Friday Fictioneers, this week’s brief composition:
The House that Jack Built
Whatever he put his hand to. Didn’t seem to matter. Oh he had the will and the brawn – the heart – he was a determined man. Yeah, the fence does look nice, dad built that. But the house, that was Jack’s doing. Parents said he was always that way. Everything he touched. Marriages, parenting, education, work. Big dreams and fine intentions, with a flair for entropy – DIY and disorder. Always came to pieces, his doing the undoing of whatever he done. Easy and difficult to love on so many levels. This house only one of ‘em. It’s amazing anything still stands.
N Filbert 2013