Cleanliness, he never knew its meaning nor ever tried to fathom, even though the whole world around him tried to explain its importance. A lazy bum that he was; he’d give callously blunt replies to anyone who questioned his habits. Immersed in alcohol; drunk of all his senses, his life was pathetic. Lethargic to do anything productive, he’d waste away all his time by the stream, whose banks too bore witness to the apathy. It stank of all the rot people left behind. The day he fell seriously ill, he knew how everything was connected – but was it too late to redeem?

This 100 words post is for Friday Fictioneers - ( Image Copyright – Sandra Crook )
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  1. Anonymous15:56

    I like to think that there's always time and hope....



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