Weekly Photo Prompt: the woodcutter

 

 

IMG_1993Swing the axe.

Chop.

Swing the axe.

Chop.

And again. And again. One thousand cuts a day, every day for months on end. The woodcutter’s hands were rubbed raw by the constant pressure of the axe handle. The ever-widening clearing around his house was littered with untidy piles of felled trees, the ground slippery with rotting scraps of bark. He used to hear birdsong when he woke each morning, but the birds were gone now. Friends from the village didn’t come near him any more. It was for the best, he told himself. Safer for people to keep their distance from the axe. Continue reading