The ground is a carpet of pipe cleaners bristling under my bare feet. I tug on the hose, all hundred pounds of my skin and bones leaning forward. With every step, the sprinkler spits warm water onto my legs.
Last week, pink and white blossoms covered our apple trees. Now, they’re withered crones on the ends of branches. Even the bees won’t go near them. Mom says if we don’t water them now, our yield may be too small for canning in the fall.
Once again, she has lured me away from my video games with promises of applesauce.
This story was written as part of the Carrot Ranch Literary Community’s weekly 99-word challenge. Here is the prompt:
July 2, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes the word blossom. You can use the word as a noun or a verb, or even as a name. How does it fit into your story? Go where the prompt leads!