Rummage

“Water! They have water!” Linda shrieks. She yanks the dusty lamp from the cardboard box, squeezes it against her gut, and bends over to twist the glass cone from its base. Her stomach rumbles violently, shaking her entire body. She drops the lamp, and it rolls to the attic door, falling through the ceiling.

“Ouch!” Ryan whines from below.

“See if you can open it!” Linda yells, breathing heavily. “Did you find any food?”

“Just moldy bread.”

Linda sighs and crawls back to the ladder. Her hands can barely grip the steps as she descends. When she reaches the bottom, her foot slips, and she collapses into Ryan’s side, causing him to drop the lamp. The glass shatters on the hardwood floor.

“Shit!”

“Aw, there was only a few drops in there anyway,” Ryan says. “Enough to make you mad.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Linda croaks.

Ryan cuffs his hand under her upper arm, grasps her wrist with his other hand and pulls her up. “We’ll try the next house.” He drapes her arm over his shoulder. “Maybe they have Twinkies. Those never go bad.”

word count: 190

—Nortina


rummage Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge for writers to create a 100-200 word story using the provided photo prompts. Click the froggy icon to read other stories inspired by the photo and add your own.

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