Hard Times

This short story is written for Sunday Photo Fiction.


It was hard work. The ground was almost frozen. But not quite. He was still able to use his shovel to dig the small grave.

Their journey to Indiana had been exhausting. They had loaded their wagon full of what little possessions they had. George had wanted to stay on their little patch of land in Georgia but Sara had insisted on moving to be near her family. He tried to persuade her otherwise considering her condition. He had convinced her sister Mattie to travel with them until they were able to settle in their new cabin.

Clearing his small plot of new land was his first priority. It was near the end of the first Friday on their small farm when he heard Mattie’s  screams coming from the cabin. Mattie met him at the front door and cried in his arms. “The baby came to early Mr. Earl; way to early. But Ms. Sara is fine, she just fine Mr. Earl.”

There would be no birth certificate issued.


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