Our World our Village

Friday Fictioneers.

This week’s picture prompt of a rotting tree stump (provided by Sandra Crook) made me think of orchards and how , at one time, they were the life and soul of many villages along the Clyde valley. An industry that is rooted in the past. However, commercial decline is not the only reason that villages are torn apart–look around the world today.

I have based my story on experiences from Bosnia.

The usual mix of contributions by other members of the group can be found here.

Photo Prompt By Sandra Crook

Our World our Village

As you stare across the wasteland, you can see there was a village here; once.
Point down the valley where the trees were, and people nod and look away.
We remember childhoods learning together and laughing in the classrooms.
In the autumn, families congregated in the orchards, in the wood mills, and harvested the crops.
We were an entwined community of good neighbours, innocent lovers, and with marriages of everlasting bonds.

The fanatical nationalists terrorised us with a medieval past, infesting our streets with their hateful ethnic cleansing.

Today, we stand in silence, holding hands in remembrance of our roots.