[ST] - White Powder ... You mean snow, right?

Another week - another Friday - another story to tell.
Yes it's already one week after the first 'Story Time' and I'm back for more - just as promised (or threatened, depends on how you want to view it).
What's that? It's not yet Friday everywhere? Uh... yeah, you're right I guess, but as a matter of fact there is not a single moment in which everywhere in the world is the same day, so why bother too much?

Never mind me, just was getting distracted by my own brain. Spacing out and talking to myself there for a second. he... he...? Aw well, let's get this party started before it happens again, shall we?

This weeks story takes us back into the past. A rough past, not that long ago actually. But you'll see for yourself once you read it. Enjoy.


*~*

The history of my family has always been rather colourful.

I used to love how my grandfather told me tales of his youth.  How he and his parents had first set foot into this country and how they had to struggle to find their place amongst the people already living here.

Just try to imagine how life must have been for them for once.  It is as a fascinating thought as it stirs up a kind of fear and restlessness inside of me.  I’m not sure whether I would have been able to do something like they did at that time.

They left everything behind you know. 

They just left in order to pursue what appealed to them as their piece of fortune in life that they still had to claim for themselves before somebody else took it. 

All those countless stories I had listened to when I was a child.  It is strange how a lot of them have only recently started to make sense to me. 

During the time when I was still younger I never thought about many of the things that were told to me.  Like a sponge I just kept on soaking up everything that he talked about.

But here is a question for you.  How exactly did you managed to secure something for yourself in rough times like those? 

You got involved with illegal activities or you had to do the dirty work for other people.  Either way, what an atrocious time it must have been for my great grandfather.

I can recall the story of how they had managed to open up their first own business.  They had a simple carpenter’s shop in the beginning.  But this alone just did not cut it.  Then one of my great grandfather’s friends had the idea.  He was also the one who organized their first meeting with people from this this strange, kind of dodgy group in town.  It had not taken long for them to come up with a deal suiting both sides equally.

Soon afterwards those people showed up again at the shop, small bags of white powder neatly hidden away in their pockets.

Smuggling drugs has always been a problem in this country. 

But after coming to know all of this how can I look at it that negatively? 

Do not get me wrong.  In no way I would support something like this, but thinking about it. This was exactly what made a living for my grandfather and his parents those days.

Hadn’t it come this way..., well then I would probably still live somewhere else in the world. If I had ever been born in the first place, that is.

*~*

I'm still in need for a suitable title - so I'll leave that open for now, but I'll probably add one later on. The whole idea was inspired by a rather well-known movie (did I just hear somebody yell rip-off?) and I'm sure you'll all figure out which one it is on your own. Should be easy enou... oh wow... spacing out again... Not a good sign... not at all. Maybe that's my queue to go back to bed again (fyi it's 11 a.m. in Germany right now).
Gotta love starting to "work" at 4 a.m. ...
But now I'm just starting to bitch around - I really should stop right here before it only gets worse. I hope you enjoyed this weeks scrap of text and have (had?) a great Friday. Weekend's near! Yay!

(As for the content of upcoming Flash-fiction stories: The next ones will be great! I promise - this is all still warm-up!)

As always thanks for reading.
Marc, Keeper of the Honey-Grizzly

P.S.: New Kitteh incoming!