The river stole and stole.
First, my front yard.
Then my steps and back yard.
Most recently, my living room, kitchen and study.
But still it wanted more. Swollen. Insatiable.
Simba meowed loudly in my lap, anything but brave.
I stroked his ginger fur. ‘How about we laugh in the face of danger?’
A gale rattled the window. Rain pelted against the steel roof.
Dark, foul water lapped at the top step—all that was left of my twisting staircase.
Soon, it would take my bedroom. But it wouldn’t take us. It could have my possessions, but not my tomorrow.
Afterword
The mission: to write a 100-word piece with the theme: “swollen”.
Countless swollen body parts came first to mind.
But, I knew that I wanted to take this one in a different direction.
A swollen river provided a great image and an emotive story.
P.S. Did you get The Lion King references?
Photo attribution: thanks to Lukas Hron on Unsplash.