This is an entry for Friday Fictioneers, a 100-word challenge based on a photo. Hope you enjoy!
Lewis rubbed his hands together. Getting cold.
And Major was only getting worse.
It’d been years, since the old man had let Lewis call him Father.
Gradually, their homestead came to resemble boot camp. From Major’s fondest bygone days, in the Marines.
Being sixteen, it was fun, at first. Learning riflery and wilderness survival tactics.
But now, shivering, wearing nothing but a wife-beater and sweatpants, padlocked, like an animal, in a chicken-wire cage, the old decrepit barn wheezing around him, the mercury plummeting…
And Major, back at the house, sucking down moonshine…
Well. Escape no longer seemed like child’s play.