It had been a hard day at work. He dragged himself with heavy feet towards the meager shelter called home. The money he had earned was not enough to buy meals for a family of four. Again, his wife would feed the children, give him some gruel to nourish himself, and go to bed hungry. He could not justify his existence to himself.
Surprisingly, he was greeted with a warm smile and a plate full of food. She signalled that they will talk after the children slept. In a flash, he recalled the hungry looks of the labour contractor, ogling at his wife. He did not need to talk.
He left the plate untouched, and walked towards the shanty of the Big Bad Four. His expertise in breaking open locks in a jiffy, was well-known, and they had asked for his help several times. He was willing to sell his soul.
A criminal was born.
A few weeks later, they had moved to a more humane place to live. The kids looked clean and well-fed, and his wife was dressed in decent wraps. He was soon, arrested on charge of the labor contractor’s murder.
The family was homeless, once again.
(200 words)
Inspired by
Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

Sad commentary on today’s world. Well done.
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Money is such a terrible thing – to little ruins you and so does to much!
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Sad how the need of money destroys a humans character. Well written. 🙂
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