The House on the Hill

On every bird there sits a tree
Singing a song of love
AnElephant hopes it is a very small tree
Or an exceedingly muscular dove

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Joe Owens.
Just click on the link to see a  multi-storied library of tall tales in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s down to earth contribution.

Copyright Joe Owens

The House on the Hill

 Jack built a house high on a hill
His wife kept having children
The rooms filled up with hordes of weans
So Jack just kept on building them

 Every civilisation has its dark secrets.
As the countries of Europe – the United Kingdom, Spain, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Portugal – colonised the New World, they did unspeakable things.
Their treatment of the indigenous people world wide was nothing short of abominable.
Genocide was often the order of the day, and carried out with indifference.
But another, more insidious practice, was carried out, well into the 20th Century.
Children were taken from their homes, never to see their parents again, cut off from their native culture, and banned from the use of their own language.
They were kept in homes and educated in the ways, and the religions, of the conquerors.
This happened in the USA.
And in Canada, much of it under British rule.

But we do not call this ethnic cleansing.
Oh no, that is what bad people do.