Men of Action
Joseph Smithson watched dragonflies skim across the lake, hovering above the water, looking for smaller insects to eat. Black fish drifted beneath the surface, avoiding his father’s fishing line.
He took out his school notebook and drew the outline of a dragonfly, sketching the intricate design of its body. He started to trace its delicate wings and felt a sharp pain across the back of his head. He turned to see his father towering over him.
“What are you, some kind of fairy?” His father bellowed.
Art was not the way of Smithson men. They were men of action.
Written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction 99 Word Challenge: Gone Art