Set your story during a month of drought — whether literal, or metaphorical.

Posted in Dramatic on Jan 12, 2024

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✍️ 38 stories

“Lillian” by Brynn Helena

Submitted to Contest #233

My father was an exorcist. And his father before him, and his father before him. My dad died when I was ten years old. That's when I decided I wouldn't end up like him. Never at home with his children, enraptured by the idea that he was a savior. A god. I thought it was a huge, steaming load of shit. An excuse for him to spend years hanging us out to dry, leaving our mother to scrounge for ways to feed us, always returning with a new perfume on his collar. So, when I graduated high school, I went straight to college and studied law. I b...

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“Where's the Can Opener” by Mary Bendickson

Submitted to Contest #233

Where's the Can Opener? Time is ticking down. The end is near. Grandma rechecks her list for the umpteenth time. Candles with lighters and matches Radio / Ham radio Flashlights; lanterns; batteries, all sizes Tool box / sewing kit Generator ready Bottled water, for eight people for 30 days Canned goods, dried fruit, ready to eat meals Plates, utensils, pots Blankets, pillows First aid kits Medications / vitamins Reading material, especially Bible and survival magazines Warm clothing Air purifiers; gas masks; emergency oxygen; Geiger count...

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“The Cat's On The Roof...” by Rose Winters

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #233

Jane was having the worst writing slump of her life, stuck in a perpetual merry-go-round of clichés. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard:“Boy meets girl.” She shook her head. Oh hell no.“Boy murders girl.” Too man-power-ish.“Girl murders boy.” She rolled her eyes and angrily wrote:“Grandma murders Grandpa.” Come on, think!She growled and spun her faux leather chair around, staring out the window for inspiration.Come on, muse… work your magic.The lights blinked on and off, as if in answer. Maybe it was her muse. Maybe things would be okay afte...

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“The Mountain that Walked Away” by Jonathan Page

Submitted to Contest #233

I tie the Jerry Can to my back with a cloth belt, which hugs my thin shoulders like a noose. The morning commute to the riverbed is a test of endurance. At eleven thousand feet, the half-hour journey down to the river with the smelly, miserable cows and goats crowding along the roadway is my least favorite part of the day. The dry air and oppressive ninety-degree heat smother me. After school, in the afternoon, I will have to go back for more water, but the weather will be cooler by then.My mother, Nima, is caring for my little brother, Juni...

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“Going Rogue” by Michelle Oliver

Submitted to Contest #233

Light harvesting is a dangerous occupation. You have to be fit, fast, and completely fearless—some might even say insane. I never had a choice; it’s all I’ve known.Out here in the Shadow Rim, a place of eternal twilight, you either survive, or you don’t. It’s cold and dark, even during the daytime hours, so we have to farm light. That’s my role. I check the light farms and bring back energy cubes so that we can survive out here on the Rim. Danger lies in the light. When the Light Stalkers invaded our planet a few years ago, they quickly seiz...

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“Lifeboat” by Jack Kimball

Submitted to Contest #233

In every direction the only sight was a skulking blue ocean, a silver mercury one day, a crystal blue the next. The only sound was the water slapping against the thirty feet of open boat. The only taste salt, the only smell fear. I marveled at how the sky dictated the color. Water is almost clear, I thought. It’s only the sky that gives it color; the sky is like an artist painting the sea. The sea has no knowledge of who paints it.It had been twenty-one days since our steamer floundered, New Year's Eve, 1890. There were eight of us and we'd ...

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“Sand and Seagrass” by Morgan Aloia

Submitted to Contest #233

Cano crouched completely motionless, listening the gentle slap of the waves against his wooden canoe. A tall rod hung over the side with a line trailing down into the depths of the limpid water. He squinted against the sun’s reflection, tracking the telltale shifting of his prey as they moved around his hook.Fishing in these reefs had become a waiting game, and so Cano waited. The floor below created a backdrop of polychromatic coral spotted with patches of sand and seagrass. Cano scanned the water for fish large enough to provide food, but ...

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“ONCE UPON A TIME IN LABARCA” by Jolanta Polk

Submitted to Contest #233

Labarca had never been more than a one-lane hamlet with three dozen houses slouching like dozing hens in a coop. The valley cradling the village was surrounded by hills overgrown by ferns, imported Oregon pines, Australian eucalyptuses, and native espinos—low, prickly bushes speckled with duck-yellow flowers that stole threads from trespassers’ clothing. The place smelled of oblivion, and the winding roads leading there were so little used that thistles, nettles, and dandelion sprouted between the ruts.Labarcans lived on acre plots and their...

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“November” by Madison Swann

Submitted to Contest #233

Anders was a quiet man, someone you had to look at twice to remember he was there. Although he was of great stature and had hair that mirrored a heavenly glow, his eyes were solemn, sleepless, and hollow. One didn’t look Anders too long in the eye, to avoid the chill his gaze would pierce into the soul. It would happen so quickly, you could feel where in your body your soul chose to hide. There was one thing this man of mystery truly hid, and that was that he was a vampire. He wasn’t the sort to go prowling in the night or feast on lonely w...

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“O For April” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #233

Coming out of a successful spring training camp, the Detroit Tigers seemed primed to finish in first place. Then their ace, Pickles Primeau, fell down a flight of stairs while taking out the trash, tearing his ACL. In his first at-bat of the season, the team’s best hitter, Perdido Morales, slid into second, breaking his ankle. Good things come in threes and the Tigers soon found out the same is true of bad events as well. Rip Robbins, the previous season’s home run champ and a rabid rapper, announced his retirement to become a full-time mu...

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“The End of the Drought” by Trudy Jas

Submitted to Contest #233

Implied nudity and consensual relationship. Enjoy.How to end a drought.Play the game.The warm-up.Each business trip is different, of course. Sometimes, she gets invited to dinner the evening before. Usually not. Sometimes she stays in her hotel room, feasting on room service selections and anything on the Hallmark Channel. Other times, she'll research where to eat, finding local specialties.When she's out by herself, invariably someone will ask if he can join her. Often, she will say yes and enjoy the conversation and light flirtation. Occas...

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“Pray for Rain” by Laura Rayne

Submitted to Contest #233

Another clear sky. Ezekiel stood on the threshold of the door and he could damn near weep at the sight of it. When he came to this godforsaken land to claim his 160 acres of American Dream, he never imagined the sky would make him cry. But 38 days without rain will do that to a man. They say desperate times call for desperate measures, and these were as dire as they come. Stepping out onto the dry ground, he reached down and patted the flank of his old bloodhound. “Come on Beau.” It would kill him to say goodbye...

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“The Drought” by Anne Perry

Submitted to Contest #233

The Drought I. One hot, dry day and all the blossoms are gone, Louise thought, bending over her gardenia bush to pick off all of the buds that had withered in her absence. There had been thirty or more on the bush, ready to open up any day. Now there weren’t any. She’d picked the last of the open flowers to wear in her hair at the gallery opening for her friend’s exhibit. Irene was always producing new work that interested the galleries. It had been a long time since Louise had had a success. Then there was the matter of her fish. He h...

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“To Wish Upon A Fairy” by Vivacity Rex

Submitted to Contest #233

Millie sat at the rim of the darkened cottage, the scent of peat fire churning in dense ringlets around her. In the center of the chamber, circling the cooking fire were the elders. They called a gathering to confer over what should be done to save the season's yield of grain. “It has already been months of no rain, the harvests will not endure much longer.” A female said, anxiety lacing each word. “We can have the youths collect water from the creek.” Said a male. “That may work, albeit challenging. Others would need...

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“The Dowser” by Craig Scott

Submitted to Contest #233

People had laughed at him. Called him an old fool. Well, Jeremiah didn’t care. It had been a month without the summer rains, and things were dire— even his little pump-well had run dry. As he walked, he mused how the younger generation had seemed to have turned sour. Mired too much in their education, their almanacs, the lectures and dictates of government men who came by with leaflets on fertilizers. Something in that mix had made the young people mean-spirited, spiteful towards old things; mocking and irreverent. Jeremiah spat into the dus...

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Set your story during a month of drought — whether literal, or metaphorical.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 38 stories

“Lillian” by Brynn Helena

“Where's the Can Opener” by Mary Bendickson

“The Cat's On The Roof...” by Rose Winters

“The Mountain that Walked Away” by Jonathan Page

“Going Rogue” by Michelle Oliver

“Lifeboat” by Jack Kimball

“Sand and Seagrass” by Morgan Aloia

“ONCE UPON A TIME IN LABARCA” by Jolanta Polk

“November” by Madison Swann

“O For April” by Michael Jefferson

“The End of the Drought” by Trudy Jas

“Pray for Rain” by Laura Rayne

“The Drought” by Anne Perry

“To Wish Upon A Fairy” by Vivacity Rex

“The Dowser” by Craig Scott

🌟 Similar prompts

Write a story about a character participating in Dry January.

Your character, having abstained from their worst vice (big or small), finds new clarity.

Write a story in the form of diary entries, written by someone who has set themselves a month-long challenge.

Set your story in a bar that doesn’t serve alcohol.

Contest #233

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

230

Contest entries

78

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: