Smoke stung his eyes as William glared at the well standing impotent in the middle of the scorched field. He likely gave these fields more of his own sweat and tears than that damned well ever gave him water; he raised barely enough in that bucket to keep his crops alive, never mind save them from wildfire.
But Emma, she loved the well. She spent hours sitting at its edge singing, reading, sewing his shirts, playing with their baby son and dribbling cool water from the dipper onto his head while he squealed with delight…
Through the smoke, he recognized the blue of her bonnet on the ground just behind the stones of the well, saw the flowered sleeve of her ash and soot streaked blouse unbuttoned at the wrist where her hand rested gently open, as if waiting to take his hand.
“No, God, no!” William cried as he hurtled himself across the blackened earth toward her, stopped only by the sound of his tiny son’s cry coming from the bucket inside the well.
Each week, the lovely and talented Ivy Walker hosts a link-up challenging writers to spin a tale in six sentences – no more, no less.
The cue for April 27t AND June 22dn is WELL.
Click on the link right here to read more Six Sentence Stories from April 27th’s link-up.
Or click this link to join us for the June 22nd link-up and read another round of tales based on the word WELL.