Flash Fiction Entry 17: Drought

Yeah! I feel like this on a day when I am stumped and the words won’t come. Dry grass-hope it will turn fresh and green-sure hope it does that soon!

MeanderWritings

Mary Sue lays out on the grass. Blades have turned a shade of brown in the summer sun. She enjoys the feeling of the blades– a prickly feeling. The sky is marbled in blues. After staring so long, Mary Sue can see slight variations. A Patch of sky has a slight white undertone and looking left, small bits of darker blue swirl. The sky  interests her. She could get lost in its gradient. It makes her mouth water.

It hasn’t rained in months. The plants around town slowly wither as the days roll on. The mayor had declared citizens not to water their grass, not to take long showers, reduce water waste. The sun simmers away pool water and small ponds. Mary Sue would explore these remains, the mud hardened with heat. Cracks revealing the actives of dried fish and algae. The thin string like plants crackle under her shoes. Crack like…

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