UWW Short story workshop 2

Prompt: Write a short story containing a lucky bottle cap, a stuffed monkey, and a penny.
Trust.
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Tumbleweeds caught in the picket fence as dust swirled across the yard, scattering chickens in its wake. It was noon, and the heat shimmered visibly on the bonnet of the Dodge parked in front of the barn. Samuel squinted as he gazed up the dirt road, his eyes seeking the tell tale cloud that would announce the arrival of his father's truck. There was nothing.

Seemed like nothing was everywhere you looked these days. There was nothing in the gas tank to run the Dodge; there was nothing in Pa's order book to justify starting the sawmill; and there was nothing in the post from his brother who'd gone away looking for work. There was nothing to do, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Even worse, the chance of his father having even gone near old Mister Dewey's shop to see the monkey, without whom Samuel's life would be sadly incomplete, was less than nothing. Perched on a small branch in it's own glass case, the monkey had definitely seen happier days. Threadbare in places, with eyes that had long given up on life, the monkey was nonetheless the most wonderful creature that Samuel had ever seen. Aiming a desultory kick at a pebble in the yard, Samuel sat back down on the chair on the veranda to wait.

There was nothing in his piggy bank either, save for the lucky bottle top given to him by Isaac, and a large, rather worn, penny. Samuel snorted. Stupidly, he'd believed the coin to be valuable - it had after all come from the other side of the world. Mister Dewey had soon put him right, the coin was worth less than a dime, and that was because Mister Dewey was feeling generous. It would be better for Samuel to take him up on his offer whilst his generosity, rather than to suffer first hand the way the depression robbed everyman. The trouble was he had but one penny. By his calculations he would need at least eighteen of the coins to raise the $1.75 Mister Dewey wanted for the monkey; and even that was dependant on the laws of supply and demand,which, as everyone knew, could no longer be trusted.

For that matter, the bottle top couln't really be described as lucky either; rather, it acted as a constant reminder of better times. Two summers ago, he and Isaac had made what seemed like a fortune retuning empty bottles to the store. He remembered a summer of ice cream and soda pop; of long days fishing in the creek; of security and contentment. Isaac had kept the bottle top as a souvenir of their money making venture, claiming it would bring him luck. When Isaac had left home to find work he had entrusted the bottle top to Samuel. "This way I'll always be in touch with you" he'd said. Well, that had been last fall, and Samuel was still waiting for Isaac to get in touch.

It was warm sitting on the veranda, and the background hum of bees luxuriating in the heady aroma surrounding the jacaranda tree had a profoundly mesmerising quality. Samuel left behind the worries that dominated his world. The capuchin was seated on a branch above him, watching his every movemeny with inquisitive eyes.He had stayed with Samuel throughout his trip, and his presence now was that of a loyal friend. The forest was thick here, allowing little light to penetrate it's green canopy. Reaching into his pack, Samuel offered the monkey a piece of dried fruit, taking another for himself. Shadows made it difficult to see clearly, but Samuel would never forget the thrill as his friend's hand brushed his own. It was smaller and more delicate than his, and possessed of a vibrant energy. Vitality surged into him, and, sweeeping aside any misgivings, Samuel stared deeply into the monkey's eyes, endowing him with unconditional trust. High above his head, brightly coloured parrots screeched dissonantly, competing with the incessant chirruping of cicadas at head height.

In the distance a truck spluttered noisily, as if gasping for air. Breathing deeply, as if to ease the labouring pistons, Samuel relised his fists were tightly clenched, as if to protect him from the jarring ride of the passenger seat. The cloud of dust that enveloped the truck as it lurched into view was accompanied by the grinding of gears as it slid to a halt. "Look sharp lad," his father called as he leapt from the cab, "we've got company." As the dust cleared, Samuel saw that there was indeed someone sitting in the passenger seat. As he reached to open the passenger door of the truck, Samuel became aware of a sharp object embedded in his palm, and uncurled his fist. The lucky bottle top. "You remembered," Isaac said, grinning from ear to ear, "I knew I could trust you!"