Twiddling. That’s what Pops called it. Eyes and fingers all a twitching. Always just sitting there, but never just sitting. Running a thousand miles an hour without moving.
Brian done come home from the war a changed man. Everybody saw it. Debby packed up and headed home on day one. On day two Brian was back home with Pops.
Didn’t work. Nuttin. Just sat there, twitching. Twiddling.
Until Pops said he was cutting down the old Sycamore.
Brian was up all night, makeshift spots on the tree, Pops’ wood-working tools in hand. Nobody knew what to make of it.
Word count = 100
I saw implements of war in the carving – helmet, stone battle axes from different cultures, etc. I thought about the artistry of making the carving. But I ran out of words before I could get it all in there. Oh well, that’s what Friday Fictioneers is about ;)