In two days all Sir Reston had seen was dirt, rocks, boulders, barren hills and mountains, strange, giant potholes and scruffy brush. There were no people, buildings, homes, roads, trails, or even trees anywhere.
At least they left him his bilbo when they dumped him in the middle of the prosaic badlands of South Dakota with no food, and no water. He’d set his shirt on some rocks the first night, so it could collect dew. He’d managed to wring out a couple of swallows of water from his shirt, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to find more water. Soon.
He swore, if he found water, and survived, he would find the people who left him in the badlands. And he would make them pay for what they’d done to him. But first, he had to find water in the badlands. He had to survive to get his revenge.
150 Words
@LurchMunster
I wrote this little ditty for Jeffery Hollar‘s weekly Monday Mixer flash fiction challenge. Please, go read all the other entries in this week’s challenge. They are all well crafted.
My Soul's Tears 