Friday Fictioneers: Divine Stair

by Eena

Photo copyright – Björn Rudberg

They are such a tiny folk.

Their houses are slight, their harvest meager, their weather ever-changing.

Even their hopes and dreams are minute and fleeting.

Why rise when the winds only sweep them away?

Why climb where the storms just beat them down?

What is the use of rebuilding that which will always fall to a mightier force?

I hardly notice when their roofs crumble under my step.

They are such a tiny folk.

*****

Every week, writers around the world each submit a 100-word story in response to a photo assigned by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read the Friday Fictioneers’ stories here!

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