It’s been a rough year for him. First his wife got sick, then his chickens, and now it’s summer and nothing is growing on his small plot of land. Day after day, the meteorologist reported that there will be rain but there’s never any rain and with the limitation on water usage, his crops have slowly withered away.
One day, as he stood at the edge of a row, preparing to plow the soil for new crops, his competition walked in. He snickered, “Nice, what did you do? Plowed’em to death?” He walked rubbing his stomach, laughing.
“I’ll show him.” He clenched his fists and rushed into the house. “Sons!” He called and began banging cabinet doors in the kitchen like he’s looking for something.
“Lookin’ for somethin’, dad?” His eldest asked.
“Yes, boys gather them jugs, fill’em with water and bring’em outside.” He returned outside and began sowing the squash seeds into the ground. “Here, boys,” he pointed and helped the boy dump the water on the patch, “I’ll show that fat bastard.”
I am participating in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer, where we write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) in length inspired by the photo prompt above.