I Steal Mangoes
I stealthily crept outside the stone building that held us. I would be whipped if I got caught. I reached the Mango tree and climbed up quickly. I plucked a number of mangoes and stuffed them into my pockets. I climbed down and ran as fast as I could from the stone prison holding us children before deportation. I might still get caught and end up being sent back to my homeland. There I would be sold into slavery as I belonged to the minority community. But I would have at least tasted a few ripe Mangoes by then.
No of Words: 100
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Author’s Note: This post has been written in response to the Photo Prompt provided as part of Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
4 thoughts on “I Steal Mangoes”
At least he/she won't go hungry…
At least you have the mangos. Others may not be as lucky.
There's a lot more going on here than mangos. Slavery in all its ugliness, whether enslaved by one's own race or sold elsewhere.
Great piece. A lot packed into this piece.