My entry in this week’s Flash! Friday contest. The photo below was the prompt and “Knighthood” had to be incorporated within the story. 160 word max as usual. My story received a special mention on the winners page for “language.”
The farm was dying. The drought had enveloped Lancaster County months ago, refusing to unclench its grasp on the land. The sun hammered away at the soil, searing and cracking, until it mirrored the look and texture of fractured granite. Infertile.
Isabelle sat in a wicker chair on her shaded porch, her truckers cap pulled down low. She watched Percival trot along the fence line, his peckish eyes craving a solitary blade of undead grass.
Her father used to regale her with tales of chivalrous knights when she was a child, the name was a tribute to him. With his passing, she was left with six acres of barren ground and a sole companion.
She was straw-thin. Melted by a savage and unapologetic cloudless sky. She took a sip of whiskey to strengthen her resolve. Winced. Percival glanced up at her, imperceptibly granting approval with a slight nod of his emaciated head. Isabelle quietly loaded the Winchester. Refilled her glass.