“The Spaniards rejected us.”
“Bastards won’t let us put out deck chairs!”
“The Aussies want us. Only cost us ten pounds.”
They arranged migration interviews, arriving late.
“You boys better make it to the ship on time,” the embassy official warned.
Their mother’s packed clean underwear, hankies and saucepans; crying as they waved goodbye.
Within days they hated ship life as they rounded Cape Horn and faced the days at sea. Finally docking in Freemantle they hit the pub, horrified by the white walls, straw strewn floor and beer served from a hose.
“Perhaps we might need those saucepans.”
In response to Charli’s prompt where she asks:
February 23, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a migration story. It can imagine the dusty or arctic trails of the frontiers past or look to the travel across the galaxy. What issue about modern migration bans might influence an artistic expression in a flash? Migrate where the prompt leads you.
Respond by February 28, 2017 to be included in the compilation (published March 1). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!