PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields
Long before dawn shows its face they come, with sharp knives held in their thick-gloved hands. With spotlights, they hunt for us. We shudder and dew flies as they grasp us and hack away, separating us from our lives. We are plunged into pails of ice water. At daylight the pails are loaded onto trucks and carted off to where, one by one, twelve by twelve, we are sold by our masters to others like them. The new masters transport us to a final place of slow death in a cylinder of tepid, rancid water. Our crime: affordable fragrant beauty.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the steadfast host of Friday Fictioneers.