Time for another Five Sentence Fiction entry! 


Drought is murder.

Growing toward the sky and the center of the earth in all seasons, my one lust is for water. My roots spread wide, grope deep, branches clawing the air for any taste of moisture as insects burrow into my skin to suck my sap dry. I give what I can, but it is not enough – for either of us.

Then, in the distance – a peal of thunder.