No one could remember when the last rain came. It doesn’t matter anymore.
First the crops withered. The corn never developed. Then the stalks shriveled and dried up, standing right there in the field.
Once the crops were gone, there was no feed, either. No one would buy the cattle. After they died, the horses did, too. The dogs all ran off, probably to find water since the creeks all dried up.
That’s when the well went dry. Ma and Pa both passed away then. I think they just lost their will. I don’t know why I am still here.
Photo & Flash Fiction Prompt,
100 words or less
"The Drought": 100 words