99-word fiction – Dying for a drink
I dragged my feet over the outskirts of a dusty, run-down town. Silence, total and desolate, greeted me and my fear went before me like my shadow. I would have called out but my lips were cracked and my throat was dry. My tongue felt like leather. I fell and crawled towards the town square. No one stepped out to help me, nor did any curtain twitch. There was a water pump in the square. I looked around. I was alone. I winced as the metal pump screeched. I had to drink.
Then I heard the first shuffling footsteps.
My Words, My World 