Seven times the seed has been sown. Seven times they failed to soar.
They say the soil is arid: scorched beyond its crust it chars every seed.
Rain drops cease to pour, the heavens are vexed. The sun blazes down on us like the inferno of hell attempting to rid us of life.
Some say its natures curse, others say it’s the price for our sins.
Salvaging my hope and yearning spirit, I escape.
Today in my arms lie a fresh plant though not of my soil, it will be nourished by an overflowing heart.
Sorry people if the story and picture don’t add up. I thought the picture below was the prompt and only realized my mistake when it was time to credit the photo.
In response to Friday fictioneers writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by Connie Gayer (Mrs. Russell) and the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting it, thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.
Also written for NaBloPoMo day four.