Esther Fashola
Stories (2)
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May's Luck
The dry leaves on the trees fluttered to the ground aimlessly, across the November sky. The ground was dry as the night settled in, May cast a resigned glance at the plants that had withered in her large garden. She had wept her share of tears and wished she could perhaps turn her tears to water her plants. The drought had hit the little Oak City with much grievousness, they all had no way to make their plants survive, the ground was hungry and the nearby streams dried up. The little water they got from the town pump was just what they all used to stay alive themselves. They could only watch as their plants withered one after the other and the gradual leanness in the portion of food served on the dinner table.
By Esther Fashola4 years ago in Fiction
