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The Drought
dry heat. The sky, which we relied on, was progressively letting us
down. Withered corn stalks slumped over like old men under the
immense power of the sun. Our world had crisped up like a potato
roasting in the oven. The drought latched onto our land slowly
drawing away all sense of life, sapping up Dad’s spirit.
Dad’s temper rose with the temperature. He began chiding us for
lying around or sitting slumped at the table. My sister, who had
always been moody, sat at the dinner table that night in an appalling
humour. Her overall air clawed at the already damp mood to draw it
down to a level of tenseness and agitation. Dad asked her how she
was, which caused her head to slowly turn and her gaze to settle into
a sharp glare directed at him. I sat uncomfortably, feeling the
intensity of her look emanating from her seat.
“Don’t give me that attitude, young lady.” Dad’s face reddened and
his jaw tightened.
I noticeably stiffened in my seat as my sister opened her mouth.
“Don’t tell me what to do! You’re never around, so why would you
care?”
The look of defiance in her eyes began to shrink away as she
noticed the anger rise in Dad’s body. He slammed his hand against
the table with such force that it shook. I heard a tiny whimper escape
frommy sister before she quickly silenced herself. We were all frozen
in fear for unendurable seconds. I looked to mum, but she had her
head cowered and eyes focused on her hands. My sister’s eyes
watered and hands clenched under the force of Dad’s gaze. He
quietly said, “Go to your room”. To which she proceeded to abruptly
run upstairs. The tension had been broken, but not forgotten as we
all excused ourselves from the table.
I woke up tangled in my sheets; hair sprawled across my pillow;
and my feet hanging off the side of the bed. The strength of the
wind had picked up during the night and had made my sleep light
and restless. In my sleepy haze I could hear a gentle pitter patter on
the tin roof. The tapping progressively became faster and louder and
as I came to, I turned to look outside. I had left my window open.
The gale had pushed droplet after droplet into the edge of my room.
I looked in amazement as my teddy began to get soaked. Settling my
bare feet against the floorboards, I creaked over to my window and
had to forcefully pulled the sticky lever shut. With a click, a light
shone from the hallway through the crack in the bottom of my door.
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