He felt old. He felt tired.
Forty years leading his people, the Father of the Nation. Now they wanted rid of him.
How could they be so ungrateful?
He freed them from oppression. Didn’t they remember?
Resign, they cried. Perhaps he should.
Father Time was catching up with him.
The clock ticked relentlessly.
No. There was still much to be done.
He locked the clock away in the closet. Back to work.
They watched the old man shuffle across his cell. He banged his fist into his palm. He started addressing an imaginary audience.
No one listened anymore.
Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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