100-Word Fiction: ‘The Weather God’

In a village of the desert regions, men and women gazed at the heavens and prayed. A wind was up and clouds were rolling in. Lightning flashed. It never rained in high summer.

The steel structure had arrived in the village a few months ago: a giant totem. The Westerners called it an “emitter”. It sent messages to their god. The villagers looked on in wonder.

But then the palm trees blew and the blue sky grew grey. Slowly at first, then quicker and quicker, drops of rain began to fall. The villagers shuddered. The Westerners called the outlook “optimistic”.

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Author: MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. 'Scarecrow', a debut collection of poetry is available now from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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