Saturday, May 3, 2014

Roots and drift

There are two kinds of people who reside in these parts: those that have lived here all their lives and those that had moved away then drifted back.  Finn was the former, I was the latter.  We saw the world through different lens.  He thought the casual, overt sectarianism and violence was normal and I knew otherwise; that there were other kinds of society.  Despite our opposing perspectives, we were both though intrinsically rooted in the place.  But when I found him stabbed to death on his kitchen floor, I knew that I’d be leaving again.  This time for good.

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, that's compelling, Rob. I could see that as a start to a story or even a novel.