Advice Needed: A Yam's Tale

Hello there, everyone! I am once again taking another break from my regularly scheduled fiction to publish something in the new critique community. It was created by Vocal at a perfect time for me as, sat within my memory stick, a small story opening has existed. The problem with it is... I have no idea where to go with it!

I humbly ask any of you with imaginations for advice on where to take this:

The wheels on Jo’s bike stuttered across the bumpy sandstone underneath them. He cycled past the scrap metal houses along narrow alleyways, weaving in between people walking the busy streets.

Living on the edge of a desert came with several limitations that the residents of the Benali simply had to accept. One such limitation was the inability to grow any temparate plants. As such, regular truckloads of food were scheduled to arrive in Benali. The government bought them cheaply from faraway farms. That was where Jo was headed, to one of these trucks, and he was in a hurry.

His mission was simple; snatch as much food as possible in the time he had. Back at their home tent, his mother was sat crying about the lack of food with a newborn clutched to her chest. Jo was unable to bear the sight and grabbed his rusty bicycle.

His mother would be ashamed of his behaviour.

Jo could see three monumentous trucks ahead of him. The first was unloading crates of refrigerated fruits and vegetables. A line of people dressed in green overalls and high boots passed the crates, one at a time, to one another. At the end of the line stood a man in a bright white suit and dark, black glasses. He searched every crate and held a clipboard, which he never wrote anything on.

‘Okay, one crate and then book it back to the tent…’

Jo hopped off of his bike. His sandals sunk into the sand a little, on the outskirts of Benali the ground was less compacted. Without the shade of nearby buildings, his head burned hot in the sun. He skillfully kicked the chain from the gears with his foot. The chain came loose and rattled.

He walked up to the open truck. Several of the workers in green overalls looked around at him. When he closed more distance between them, one of the workers spoke.

“Hey kid, you lost?”

“Eh, no, just wondering if you guys needed any help?” He spoke in a light voice.

“No kid, move along.” The woman dismissed Jo, grabbing another crate from the person to her right. It was full of potatoes, covered in mud.

“Sure, let me just fix the chain on my bike, It came off on the way here,” Jo lied effortlessly and without guilt. The woman nodded.

He walked forwards to the truck and propped his bike up against it. He knelt down and wrestled with the chain for a while. His fingers were getting oily.

His opportunity came quickly. A tired worker placed a crate of orange-skinned yams at his feet and put his arms above his head to stretch. Jo waited for him to turn around before snatching the crate quickly and securing it on the back of his bike. He moved quickly and precisely.

“HEY KID, STOP!” the female worker shouted.

This set a tidal wave of shouts from the green-clad workers flowing outwards. Jo hopped on his bike clumsily and began to pedal as quickly as his legs could. A few yams flew from the crate when the workers’ fingers reached out to grab him.

Jo was too fast for them. He wound the pedals frantically, his wheels rumbling over the terrain sharply. He glanced back at the trucks. The man in the white suit had taken his dark glasses off and was screaming at the people in green. His face was read and the veins popped in his neck. Jo could not imagine being so angry over one measly crate! Strange...

The shouts faded and soon Jo had cycled back to his home.

Okay so here's the thing: there's something in the crate that is not a yam. It's something smuggled into Benali because it needs the hot climate or remote location.

My ideas are:

• A dragon egg that needs a hot climate to hatch
• A piece of technology that needs to be developed in secret.

What do you think it should be?

Where should this story go?

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