The twins hurried into the kitchen; cheeks red from the frigid wind outside.
“How’d they do?” Grandmother asked. She tossed a small log into the fireplace, delighting the children as sparks flew up the chimney.
“They still think it is a winter wonderland,” said Grandfather. Pausing, he added, “The ice on the tree limbs seemed thinner today.” It had been 30 days since the ice storm began. “A good sign.”
Grandmother forced a smile. “Hot chocolate, anyone?” She placed a meager spoon of mix into mugs filled with water from the kettle. Not much left, she thought. When will it end?
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Dale Rogerson for this week’s prompt.
The two great leaders met in the Arizona desert. Alone. No one in the President’s administration knew of this meeting. If word got out, his political enemies would ruin him, much as they had his father. But the risk of doing nothing were too great. Young Trump, as the President was affectionately known, watched as a teenager while his father’s political party spit in the face of science and ignore the signs of climate change. The Deniers became a powerful political force, rolling back centuries of innovation and learning, all in the name of Capitalism.
If only his father had listened to the Truth-Sayers. He could have prevented this catastrophe from happing. But that is all water under the bridge,
Young Trump chuckled at the thought. What a fitting pun.
Swallowing hard, the President spoke.
“I believe they call you Saguaro?”
“My race is known by many names. That is one. Little children know our true name. I believe we are called Man Cactus in your language.”
Young Trump smiled, remembering.
“What do you seek from me,” the ancient one asked?
“Teach me how to live without water.”
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. A Mixed Bag provided this week’s challenging photo