SHRAPNEL
“Found some!” Arnold yelled.
The piece of shrapnel was still hot,
as was the bombsite, but his gang had to be there first to retain their scavenging
rights to the street.
As they scoured the rubble for more, Hal asked, “Anything
from your dad?”
Arnold shrugged. “He’s too busy
killing Jerries.”
“My dad writes every week.”
“Your dad’s a softie.”
The token scuffle didn’t last long –
Arnold’s heart wasn’t in it.
Mum shouldn’t have left that letter
lying open, but when he heard her crying he read it. Now the words were burned
into his brain.
‘Dereliction of Duty’.
........................................................................................................................
Thanks to Sandra Crook for her photo of a derelict building and a Smart car, but my mind sped off in a different direction. Visit https://rochellewisoff.com/ to read other interpretations of the Friday Fictioneers prompt.
