He leaves his abode at the same hour each day. Hut would be an overstatement to the place he calls his home. His poor mother has been infected and so has his wife. His two young ones look up at him, he was their only hope left now. Illiterate yet he knew he had to take the risk. If not for himself, then for his young ones. He wouldn’t let them go anywhere or talk to anyone including himself.
Dressed in filthy rags he stumbled from the community and tried to maintain his distance. He reached on foot at the threshold of the only place where he was paid enough to take care of his children.
His boss shot a fiery look at him. Stuck a dirty broom in his hand and demanded him to clean the ward. Which ward you ask? Just the one. The one with hundreds of patients suffering from COVID19.
The image of his hungry children, dying mother and lifeless wife flashed before his eyes. He took the risk. He took it for his kids. In the memory of his persistent wife. In the ancient caress of his mother.
I wrote a fiction story for this challenge. It’s based on the rural difficulties and the risk the people are taking everyday for their families. It also speaks of the devastating condition of public hospitals with hundreds of patients crammed in a single ward.
The #FOWC challenge
Welcome to June 11, 2020 and to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). It’s designed to fill the void after WordPress bailed on its daily one-word prompt.
I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (US).
Today’s word is “risk.”
Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.
Signing off and happy writing 😉