SCRAP- and a 100 word story

A couple of years ago a fence was erected round the undeveloped building land in our area.



Already the fence has been breached, in some places by dog-walkers who resent being dispossessed, in others by the youngsters who occupied the rough ground years before the construction comany acquired it. They're doing no harm by walking their dogs or simply by sitting outside on sheets of cardboard enjoying the warm nights of Tenerife.

What surprises me is that the fence is bent back but still there.People are so desperate for cash that most of the metal was stolen for scrap before the fence went up - electric cables were stripped for the copper, the aluminium lamp shades have all gone, and every drain cover is missing.

The holes have been filled with rocks to avoid accidents.

AND NOW - a 100 word story about scrap, written for Friday Fictioneers and prompted by this photograph posted by Rochelle on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

TIP BOSS

Santosh held the wire in the glowing heart of the fire – there was no shortage of fires here – and then fixed it precisely in place before leaning over to kiss Jacinta.

“What have you made?” she asked, “It’s monstrous.”

“I call it Tip Boss.”
Santosh stared at other groups huddled round other fires for mutual protection. Taking a deep breath of the stink that passed for air on the tip, he stroked Jacinta’s belly and promised her, “Our son will not live here – I will sell my art.”

A year later ‘Tip Boss’ was the centre-piece in Santosh’s own gallery.