The Farmer’s Secret

wheelbarrow

The Farmer’s Secret (197 Words)

The farmer wiped his forehead. “You look confused, son.”

“I—it’s just, sir—sir, is that—is that corn in a wheelbarrow, sir?”

The farmer smiled at his new help. The young man was too slim for heavy work, but he could be perfect for one job. The farmer had lost a lot of good workers trying to find someone who could handle it.

“Yep,” he said. “That’s corn. Follow me.”

Where the woods thickened, the two stopped. The farmer took out his pipe.

“Just wheel the barrow up to that broken tree there,” he said.

“Sir?”

“It’ll be fine,” said the farmer. “Go on.”

The young man’s hands were shaking but he did as he was asked. Three feet from the tree, his eyes widened. The creature unfolded and stretched itself, giant and snuffling. It picked up the wheelbarrow like a bowl, burying its face in the corn.

“That keeps it out of the pig pen,” said the farmer. “Well done, son. How are you feeling?”

The young man’s mouth was wide. He sat down in the grass, staring.

“Most are halfway to the station by now,” said the farmer. “I guess that means you’ll stay.”

***

Photo (c) Dawn Miller. Written in response to Sunday Photo Fiction and the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt, Tend. Check ’em out!

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