The Water Seller
I am a fictional character, in name and spirit. I enjoy fire and necromancy, and making heterosexual adventure stories as queer as physically possible.
The Water Seller stood on the steps of the palace after every meal. Her arms itched, the sand dust like a second skin, caked on to keep her safe from the three suns' heat. She shifted from her right to left foot and dipped her rag back into the bowl.
The people around her pushed and shoved, all willing to pay for the water she rung out, and all aware that even her supply was limited.
The grand doors behind her groaned and opened, and the new Desert Mother, who had come to them from a planet of oceans as blue as The Wasteland was vast, joined her, looking out over the sea of dirty and desperate people.
"Stop." The Desert Mother commanded, and the Water Seller stopped. "You will no longer sell water on the steps of my home. After each meal, any person who comes here will receive a full cup, free."
The Water Seller watched as the new Desert Mother disappeared back into the grand palace.
"How kind! How good!" shouted the people on the street. The Water Seller wondered how she would feed her family now.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
My question is how the Desert Mother can afford to give away a commodity that is apparently in such scarce supply. Did she somehow manage to transport water from her homeworld with her? Does she receive shipments on a regular basis? Questions upon questions.
- #2404 Posted 6 years ago
- Published 7 years ago.
- Story viewed 15 times and rated 1 times.
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Quite an interesting exploration of what post-scarcity really means.