And now, I'm participating in another blogfest. This one is hosted by my good friend and fellow writing Ninja, Ali Cross. The information and participant list for this blogfest can be find by clicking here.
"The rules are deliciously simple. Post an original piece of flash fiction, 250 words or less along this theme (and, FYI, "independence day" can mean anything you'd like it to mean--don't feel you have to be restricted to the July 4th holiday!):
"It's Independence Day and something unexpected happens . . ."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *The last traces of spark fizzed out on the end of Kathryn’s sparkler. Somehow, they had seemed so much more exciting when she was five. “There goes another lame holiday,” she said as she dropped the still glowing stick into the bucket of water on the sidewalk. “Why do we even celebrate anyway?”
Grandpa George smiled at her before holding out another sparkler to be lit. “That’s because you don’t remember. If you had been there, you’d want to celebrate, too.”
She took the sparkler and lit it, then watched the sparks fall harmlessly to the ground. Each spark lit up the grass like the disbelief in her heart. “Those are just stories. It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Have I ever told you about Topaz?”
“Topaz? Like the rock?” Kathryn dropped the finished sparkler into the bucket and waved off the next one Grandpa George offered.
“It was the place they took all of us. They locked us up behind gates and barbed wire. They took away everything except for what we could carry. They made us work for our food. They watched over us with guns.” Grandpa George’s face grew distant and the wrinkles over his brow deepened.
“Isn’t that what we were fighting against? I didn’t think they would do that to their own people.”
“We were different. And they didn’t trust us.” Grandpa George sighed. “When we got out, we had to start over, in a new place. But we always remember our freedom on Independence Day.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This snippet was inspired by a recent exposure to the Japanese-American relocation camps of World War II. It's sad and interesting stuff.
So, friends, what does independence mean to you?