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Lying there with my legs thrown open wide, my body feeling slack and empty, a sick wet feeling running down me, I looked at him. Just looked. This was my first man. He paid me no mind as he dressed. I snuffled back a tear as I slid to the edge of the bed and tried to stand. When my legs didn't want to hold me at first, I heard him chuckle. Looking over he was grinning at me and that superior-than-thou look was back.
I did not like the way he looked at my naked body. As if committing the way I looked to memory. I quickly dressed.
He was fiddling with his machine while I tied the laces of my brassiere. He was still doing something when my last button, on my shirt, was redone.
"How long till we know if it worked?" I asked him when I was finally dressed.
"Oh, by this time tomorrow there will be ground-soaking rain across this whole area. Now I thank you for your courage and your simple sacrifice. I must say though, you handled my length splendidly. If you would." He gestured to the door. "I'm afraid I have not the time to chat as I must monitor these dials and these wiz-bangs here so very closely."
As I stepped out into the dust and headed home, I felt the wind blow the brown powder up with each step. Only the twin trails of tears down from my eyes remained clean.
Daddy was sicker and so was Momma when I got home. After our meal of thin soup, I tucked my little brother into bed and made him promises that we would play in the rain tomorrow.
"Why is it going to rain?" he asked me.
"Because I made the rains come," I told him softly, as I pulled the blanket up under his chin.
*
(There is a long history of weather-related charlatanry in the world. It often comes from an honest desire to control the forces of nature that have so very often destroyed all that man can build. But many times it has been used to take advantage of that very desire to make suffering people suffer even more. In the plains of the American Southwest over-farming, coupled with years of drought, and other factors brought about what has been called the third largest human-made ecological disaster in all of mankind's history. The other two took centuries. The Dust Bowl took only 50 years of land misuse. A belief that science can solve everything has often been used to by these "hucksters" to fool the gullible into believing that their "devices" would work.)
(I would like to thank patientlee for her work editing this and many other of my stories. Any mistakes you see are still all mine.)
- COMMENTS
Sjappoalmost 8 years agoThis is horrible, horrible story. I salute your courage for writing it. Well done.
sheablueover 9 years agoSo rich in detail, so heartbreaking. I found to the end I was hoping that it was true, that her sacrifice would mean something. I was so drawn in to her character. Great use of dialogue and setting. This is a good one. Did someone call it erotic in a dark twisted way? I agree.
AMoveableBeastabout 10 years agoWhat a charming little piece of heart-grinding fiction.
It was wonderfully evocative and cleverly executed. Beyond that, it was touching, not in a cloyingly sentimental way, but in a manner that truly affected me. I don't know that it will fare well against more overtly sexual pieces in the contest, but it is a rare sliver of superior writing. This story will stick with me. I will look for your name because of it. I don't know how you judge good erotica, but, in my opinion, a moment of real emotion is worth a thousand hard-ons.
Anonymousabout 10 years agoI've never been so torn for voting. Beautifully written but also heartbreaking.
Zola meets the Dust Bowl meets erotica?
JagFarlaneabout 10 years agoAll too often people give away something precious on only a promise.
