Prompt courtesy of Lillie McFerrin‘s 5 Sentence Fiction.
As soon as the trees started to bud under the spring sun, the ants moved into my kitchen. They charged in dragging carts and wagons, like roustabouts dragging a carnival behind them. The big top, merry-go-round and game stalls rose up on the kitchen counter, like stems from seeds.
A storm rose up, carrying the last harsh winds and biting rains of winter.
I used my dishrag to sop up the drowned workers, the shredded tents, splintered stands, and pushed it all into the trash.