Jim loved going up to Old George’s house to visit. George waved when he saw Jim coming up the lane on his mountain bike. Old Blue bounded off the porch, barking with joy, as Jim arrived.
“Hi George” “Hi Old Blue!”
“Hello Jim, come on up, sit on the swing awhile!”
Jim plopped down on the swing, while Old Blue lay down by George’s feet as he rocked in his old rocking chair.
“I guess you heard about the Presidential Election coming up in November? Jim said.
“Oh, don’t get me started,” George replied. “Back in my day you could take a man at his word. These days it is all meaningless political nonsense!”
“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”
“Seems all of them will say most anything to get elected. Truth and integrity are lost.”
Today at d’Verse, Mish asked us to use a line from T.S.Elliot’s poem, The Wasteland, and write a Prosery piece. It is flash fiction and must be 144 words that includes the line: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”
I decided to continue my story with Old George and Jim, this time addressing politics.
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