I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked at the small plot of cultivated land, my life’s work.
Yesterday I struggled for 16 hours, all grueling, manual labor. Today looked just as long. The heatwave is endless and the humidity relentless. My blisters have blisters and I’m beginning to think that the hoe and shovel are becoming my appendages, they are in my hands so often.
There is a romance of opening a new frontier, being the first to conquer a new land.
If I knew colonizing a planet would be like this, I would have stayed on Earth.
I had to have a second go at this prompt. I almost went this way at first, but the temptation of the pun was too tempting to resist and so I did the other instead …
Word count = 100