I cowered behind the wagon. The adults were fighting again, and this time some had axes.
My mother shouted at the axe-wielders. “We knew the wagon would need maintenance and repairs. But we can’t dismantle it now with no other transportation options.”
The axe-wielders sneered. “Don’t be silly. We need to dismantle it to build a better one.”
I scampered when they approached, squeezed my eyes shut as the splinters flew.
The wheel they built eliminated the old wagon’s problems. But it was attached to nothing. We left it there, a monument to futility, and set out on foot.
Flash fiction written for Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast