100-Word Fiction: ‘The Surveyor’

The first we knew was when the surveyor came to the village with measuring equipment. And armed guards.

Then the trucks and helpers came and a fence was built between our houses and the subsistence crops. They lifted the vegetables too early and threw them away.

We villagers shouted and asked many questions as they sowed the land for palm oil. An official arrived in a black car and explained to us about money and poverty.

With our harvest gone we now must get jobs to earn money to buy food. Work is far away and we have no cars.

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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