The Melon Patch – Flash Fiction for 2/22/13

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Genre: Bucolic

Photo copyright Janet Webb

Photo copyright Janet Webb

Mean old man Stampers place. Barn fallin down. Groan up in weeds. Folks sez he played fiddle with the devil hisself. He thowed a pitchfork at me oncet. Cussed me out good. I put them snakes in his mailbox. Molasses on his doornob. Member when he chased me out his watermelon patch with dat skattergun? Still got birdshot in my butt.

We had our times. I growed up stout. Stamper got old and feable. He gone now like a fart in the wind. Nobody know where. Sep me. I know the zact spot where them melons grow big and sweet.


37 responses to “The Melon Patch – Flash Fiction for 2/22/13

  1. 🙂 Mr. Jenkins throw a hatched in our yard when we were kids. My grandmother was ready to kill him. Is that actually happen to Stamper? He could of hit one of us. Good story thanks for that old memory I forgot.

  2. Wow. I loved that. I could totally picture it. My great grandmother had a farm much like that. Wonder if there were any bodies buried there. Hmm. Wouldn’t surprise me none. Mean old man Stampers turned out to be pretty good fertilizer.

  3. Man, this photo ended up with bodies buried everywhere! I’m not sure I want to meet all of you for lunch any time soon. I could end up buried somewhere! Nice, dark take, I liked your use of dialect.

  4. I think I know these people! Relatives! ha! Great story. I could see the person talking in my head. I could also see that great melon patch. 😉

  5. This was brilliant..the melons growing sweet reminds me of an old Russian story. The grapes grow sweet with a slight taste of blood because they bury some bodies underneath the grapeyard…scary, but an effective use of the prompt..

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