So I found this in my drafts section. I don’t know where I was going with it nor do I have a memory of me writing this, so here you go anyway. If it is missing a satisfying ending then just complain to me and I’ll see what I can do.
A story about a refugee, who is working to pay off his doctor’s bill so that he can afford the fully-nerved prosthetic limbs. I had this idea on the first days prompt but was not sure how to go about it. Each day I found that the next prompt contributed more and more to helping me develop the story.
Bills to Pay – An Attempt at writing in first person present
The world this side is so much more lively than everywhere else that I have seen. The people live in poverty yet they smile, go to work in sweatshops and bring home just enough to feed their families. 10,995 kilometres away, the bodies of my two dead sons lie on the ground, unattended and with nobody to mourn over their corpses. 10,995 kilometres away, rests my wife, surrounded by a small legion of armed guards, unable to escape her tortured life. 55 kilometres away, lies my daughter, comatose, resting safely in hospital. And right here, here is home.Here is the place that I must make worthy of everyone else. They are barely hanging on this life that was forced upon them, I may be without my left arm but I still have it better than they do. I can still work and I can still make this rundown house worthy of my family so that one day, when they return, they may rest at ease on the fruits of my labour.
I pushed and pulled at the wooden barricade, only just able to draw it to a close.The sun’s rays had not yet kissed the shores but I had no time to spare. All the money my wife and I had saved up had now been used up. I had to bribe the hospital into taking poor Amil. I had not been able to forge us any documents when she fell feverish. I secured us an old abandoned house that rested on the mountainside so that she could rest without having the constant buzz of the slums rend her from sleep.