Day 25: Runnel

Word of the Day:



1. a small stream; brook; rivulet.

2. a small channel, as for water.

Here goes:

Everything was dry:  Parched grass was fighting death, eking out whatever moisture it could get from the baked earth.  Nearby, the once-swollen river had been reduced to a pitiful runnel, barely protesting its fate to shrivel up like its surroundings.  A single tree in the distance drooped, heavy under the weight of August heat.

I gave in.  Flopped onto the hard ground.  Shut my eyes.

And slept.

Cara Kennaway


4 thoughts on “Day 25: Runnel

  1. It’s currently twenty-seven degrees outside. It made reading this… weird, somehow. It’s good, though. It really captures a certain feeling.

  2. “If you keep crying like that we’re going to end up with a runnel down the middle of the room.”

    “Oh, SHUT UP!” I whimpered, reaching for another tissue. “The last thing I need right now is you bloody sassing me. I am HAVING A BAD DAY.”


    I threw a couch cushion at her, grabbed the tissue box and my blanket, and stormed out of the room. I thought I could hear her chuckling behind me. I decided I would get back at her for that.

    Y’know. Later. Just as soon as I felt like a functional human being again.

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