This entry to Flash! Friday from October 2015 feels very timely as it is based on one of America’s Presidential candidates and his experiences of trying to build a golf course in the North East of Scotland. I’ll touch more on that in the Author’s Notes for this story. For now all I say is you’ll find a tale of ambition and old static caravans called Progress below the break. I hope you enjoy!
The old static caravan is being eaten away by mold. Large greeny blue patches cover the once white outside. Any closer and Melanie would be able to smell the stink. “Have they not moved yet? Is the million not enough?”Donald shook his head.“Then get the boys up to bring that disgusting hovel down tonight.”“I wouldn’t. The locals say – ”“The locals say they are witches. They are nothing of the sort. They are three mouthy crows who don’t like progress. Who are happy to watch their community die because we aren’t offering the right kind of jobs. So get rid of them. Tonight!” She stormed off to her Land Rover. Mud fills the tire tread and speckled the paint work. It had been clean this morning. The Land Rover roars into life scattering the wildlife.Mist turns the world into two tones of grey, cloud and tarmac. She hates the country and its people. Try to do something nice, to help and all they do is hate you. She misses the city, her city and all the life that is there.A flesh of brown, brakes screech, metal on stag, antlers on window, into window, into her.