Friday Fiction - Steel

I am a steel joist way up high in a building in New York. Now I am hidden, but I was snapped as I swung through the air many years ago. That photograph is part of the history of my country now.

When the storms howl past in the winters I hear the creaking and groaning in the upper stories of this building. I shift slightly and flex.

In the hot summers I heat up and expand with the others, just a bit, just enough to acknowledge nature and the seasons.

I cannot see into my future. When will I relax into a molten furnace again and become my next selves? I must wait and just be myself until change carries me elsewhere.

Friday Fiction - Battery

We used to live to the north east of a shed of battery chickens. The smell was bad! But the wind blew in from the south west.

One day I moved into fiction land and went into the building, dressed in black, reduced in size to a 2 inch wiggly rat like guerilla. Inside I found a rather lovely library and oasis of peace. Hidden from the world and well disguised by the machine pumping out foul smells to deter visitors. It was a work place for the British Secret Service, less like Bond and more like my ideal home!

And what did I do with my new-found knowledge....absolutely nothing. I crept away, leaving them to their dastardly deeds. Back to the land of real and onwards to buy a house several miles away, have my children and land up on my own blog.

And that is the end of my mini story.