RUBBISH - flash fiction

RUBBISH

Charlie was happiest when the only sound was the shriek of gulls fighting over fish guts, but Jed wanted a mechanical winch.

“Winches got no sense, boy,” Charlie said, “Can’t feel what’s in the net like hands can.”

“We’d catch more.”

“Don’t need more - we ain’t greedy like some folks.” Charlie picked rubbish from the net. “Got more respect for the sea, too.”

One day the net was too heavy even for their calloused hands.

“Bloody container dropped off a ship, I reckon,” Charlie cursed.

 Cutting the rope, they returned to shore, leaving their discarded net wrapped around a whale.

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The photograph, taken by Jan Wayne Fields, is the prompt this week for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   I am particularly grateful for the prompt this week as I have written nothing else, due to a cataract operation last week that's left me a bit disorientated. I'll be fine when the other eye is done, which I hope can be soon!

Meanwhile, please leave me a comment  and browse the rest of my site before following the link on Rochelle's blog to read other 100 word stories.

ONE MAN'S RUBBISH IS ......

One thing the local government has got right in Tenerife is rubbish collection.
In a hot climate the last thing we need is stuff hanging around to rot and smell, so there are communal basura bins within reach of every home, and they're emptied every day including Sundays.
We also have separate recycling bins for glass, paper and "envases", which translates as milk and fruit juice cartons, drinks cans and the like.
And in our village the Cabildo also delivers this structure on Tuesday mornings - it's there till midday. Round the other side are several ramps up which you walk to deposit, in separate containers, batteries, electrical goods, cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, and the cooking oil that, if poured down the drain, can clog a sewage system in no time.
And there's one more container for household linen and clothing. This week I asked the supervisor what happens to the clothes etc, thinking perhaps they were chewed up to make newsprint.
"They go to people who need them," he told me. I went home and had a sort out.