Pride

Sweat saturated my lashes.  I blinked away salty tears,  but still couldn’t see. Stumbling toward the spindly tree, I fell forward , caught myself before hitting the sizzling pavement, and landed on the scorched, crunchy grass.

“Is this what you are searching for?”

A tall, cool shape in flowing robes held out a clear glass dripping full of ice above my head.  I reached out, collided with the arm, and the liquid disappeared into the grass.

My voice failed.  I nodded.

‘You are too careless. Not deserving.”

I rose and found the energy to shout, ‘Ma’am, I am a garbage collector!”

 

ff 3 9

photo credit Emmy L Gant

Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle can be found at this link.

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/03/09/11-march-2016/

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About Life in the 50's and beyond...

Welcome to Life in the 50's and 60's and beyond .... where I write about my childhood memories, music of the 60's and about life in the country. I am a mother, grandmother, farmer's wife, business owner, and retired teacher.
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13 Responses to Pride

  1. kutukamus says:

    How fit—a garbage person, with heart of a collector! 🙂

    Like

  2. subroto says:

    Water, water everywhere…..Thirst rate story.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I am thirsty just thinking about it!

    Like

  4. Sue sanders says:

    Very good build up and a clever ending. You say so much in few words. I liked it.

    Like

  5. Jan Brown says:

    A great build-up of atmosphere and tension–then what a clever twist at the end!

    Like

  6. How sad. It was so close.

    Like

  7. Sandra says:

    Poor man! 🙂

    Like

  8. Solothefirst says:

    A good take on the prompt, seeing that water fall must have been devastating!

    Like

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