I was at the excavation site. I walked into William’s tent. He was the Chief Geologist of the site. Inside there were various rock samples of different sorts. We were digging into some strata we had never encountered before.
William sat on the chair by his desk. In the palm of his hand there seemed to be some coarse sand he was peering at intently.
“What do you have there?” I asked.
“It’s the grit that all other grit in the world originally comes from.” He informed me.
“You mean it’s the True Grit?”
“Yes.” He replied quite seriously.
Word count: 99
This was written with the prompt true grit provided by the Carrot Ranch September 5 Flash Fiction Challenge.
My last Carrot Ranch prompt response didn’t get seen by that many: The Safebreaker’s Daughter.
I guess I was in a whimsical frame of mind this morning. I wrote this story and a humourous poem while I was still getting up.
©2019 Joanne Fisher