|Child. Photo by Alexis/El Caminante|
The mineral wealth of the hills was not for mere men to give away…to trade for money and possessions. The land was…had always been a gift from the Old Gods. The village elders had ignored Mwanga Kamari’s warnings and for their transgression had paid a terrible price. For three long years, the land had languished in the grip of drought and desolation. The Old Gods had withdrawn their favor, turning a deaf ear to the lamentations of the people.
As the sun rose slowly in the east, Kamari knew he had, at last, regained the favor of the Old Gods through his prayers and supplication. The water would return but a price must be paid.
As the boy vanished into the morning sky, the first drops of rain began to fall.
This story was written for the weekly Flash Friday Fiction flash fiction writing challenge photo prompt.