Life on the Farm
Henry kicked off his boots, and slammed them against the wall. Dried mud hid in every crack and crevice of the tread. Having dislodged most of it, he sat on the rocking chair on the porch, and threw his polka dotted, socked feet up onto the railing. Life on the farm was everything he had expected and more. No mobiles, no internet, no way for them to find him. Just the blaring sun beating down on his face, the sound of the wind in the trees, and the aroma of fresh manure to tickle his senses. He’d escaped. He’d won.
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
Make every word count.