Originally published 2020, in The Dribble Drabble Review, Issue 1. Edited by Keith Hoerner.
The thin, tangled arms of barren trees reach spindly fingers to a blinding, nectarine sky—as if pleading, begging for rain. But, the rain does not come. Now, these withering, skeletal fingers reach out to rake our flesh and draw the water from our blood—desperate to slake their thirst.