Results of U-Write-It Week 292
|
"I don't think it has rained here in a long time," Helga said, "because I just saw a..."
|
...lake and it was all dried up." Beads of perspiration trickled down the side of her face.
"How are we supposed to win the gardening contest, then?" Kacie asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"We're not. It's fate, Kacie. You've gotta listen to fate.
The gardening contest was simple; all one had to do was take a picture of the most pretty flower the gardener owned, but with such dry weather, growing flowers was near impossible in the new town Helga and Kacie had moved to.
"I've got it! We get a picture off the Internet!" Kacie cried.
They sent a picture of an azalea and a week later, they got their results:
Dear Kacie and Helga Bottomy,
This picture is not yours. It was the picture on our magazine cover last year.
by Emma, Cleveland, OH
|
...nother umbrella blowing across the road."
Sure enough, the entire crop of parasols remained unpicked, unplucked, unharvested, or whatever should have been done to reap a bumper crop of bumbershoots.
"It's just pitiful, this climate change," Helga lamented.
"Oh, I don't think this neglect is a matter of climate change," I offered. "This is a double-duty crop, after all. You know: brellies for the rains, parasols to keep Old Sol from frying the brains."
"So what do you think HAS happened here, then?"
Hopping back on my bike to pedal onward through the countryside, I offered her my most logical deduction: No one can afford the gasoline to haul them off to market.
by Ric Hardson, USA
|
..."
At a loss for words she grabbed my hand, tugging me to the flat patch of bare dirt behind the barn.
"Look," she commanded. "See what I mean?"
We stood on what could be the parched, leathery, cracked skin of a sleeping dragon. Dried mud tiles with curled edges baked in the searing afternoon heat. Deep fissures separated them, like puzzle pieces not quite pushed together.
"Okay, I got it." She didn't have to spell things out to ME. "So what you're saying is, you don't want to plant the garden back here?
"What I'm saying is," she huffed with exasperation, "if we're going to be truck farmers, let's not buy THIS place."
by Daphne Rice, Portland, OR
|
...school of dried-up, lighter-than-air, scale-shedding fish rolling down Main Street with their tongues hanging out."
by Phillip Lynne, Knoxville, TN
|
Return to U-Write-It
All Rights Reserved
|
