A Flower In the Barrel
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"I suppose you want me to sing like a canary on a spring morning then?" the spunky old woman went on as she sat in her old rocking chair that needed a squeak removed. "No ma'am, I've just been tired of guessing about the truth of it all." I said in an eager but not desperately, holding my simple ragged notebook.
The woman gave way to a small, sarcastic chuckle. "You want to know the truth of it all? Listen to the rest of the guild. Haven't they the balls to speak bout it anymore?"
As a young writer wonders into the unspoken history, she finds the desire to contribute to the cause.
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