The Plagues of Egypt


She watched through the window as he got out of the tractor and crossed the yard. He came into the kitchen, catching the screen door before it banged shut.

“Lord, that new Deere is nice.”

“You keep saying that. I just hope we can keep up the payments. You want coffee?”

“Sure.” He took the cup from her. “Don’t worry about the payments. The wheat should be ready for the combines in three weeks. This could be a record crop. Weather’s been perfect.”

“Except for the tornado that took the barn and machine shed, you mean.”

He looked at her, sipped his coffee. “You’re not starting that again.”

“Well, it makes sense is all. I punished the boy, he said we’d be sorry and then the tornado. And don’t forget the lighting striking the windmill after you yelled at him about the milking.”

“He’s just a boy. Taking him in was the Christian thing to do. Anyone would be strange,  losing his parents like that.”

“The way he looks at us. And the animals stay away from him. I don’t like it.”

“I saw you gave him the Bible.”

She nodded. “He was real interested in it. Asked me questions about the Plagues of Egypt. He’s up in his room studying it now.”

The farmer walked out onto the porch. He noticed the clouds of dots descending on wheat fields.  They made a low hum, billowed like smoke.

“What the hell?” he said as the grasshopper landed on his wrist.


For Sunday Photo Fiction


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  1. kirizar

    I loved the build and the take on the photo. I do wonder, however, do you ever write light-hearted fluff? I’d like to see that sometime.

Don't just stand there.