The Girl With And The Girl Without

Water. You see it everywhere, you use it, you waste it. Yet, you know, how precious it is.
The front cover and the trailer are both Chetna's work. Please support her in the competition! She has done so well and I am so proud. <3


2. The girl without the water.

Somewhere else in the world sat a little girl. Dressed in torn rags and wearing a peculiar expression that could only be described as a grimace. She sat over a crack in the dry, dusty floor. Swaying backwards and forwards, praying for a drop of water. Her throat was hoarse from crying, in an attempt to prise some well-deserved liquid from her eyes. It had been several days since she had drunk anything and much longer since eating. Her belly no longer growled, it was used to being neglected. A jagged ribcage stuck out, making her tiny body look even more battered.

She looked up, gradually, the sun was setting, the sky painted a rich mixture of reds, pinks and yellows. Four hours she had been here, waiting and waiting. If she went home, her Mother would beat her, but if she stayed, her Mother would beat her still. Poverty lived around her, begging children and sleeping adults. The narrow road was long and twisted, housing many homeless souls. She squinted, her hollow eyes lighting up for a miniscule fraction of a second, her brain was starting to deceive her, mirages clouding her vision.  

This girl was blessed with the burden that was heat; heat that dried up every little trace of water and hid it. Hid it somewhere where it would never be found. This girl needed water, it was her last chance. Water was not a luxury to her, it was survival. Time was ticking, and still no water. Rich families walked past, ignoring the beggars and taking delicate sips of water from well protected flasks. One lady bustled down the road, boasting of her riches and spilling droplets of water as she walked. The girl, along with many others, eyed her greedily. No one dared to try and steal from the rich, in fear of them, but it was all too much for this little girl. She ran up behind the woman and licked the spilt droplets with her dry, papery tongue. At that moment, the woman turned around.

“Thief! This filthy beggar has stolen my own dear water!” Screeched the woman; kicking at the girl before hitching up her skirts and running off, yelling and cursing as she went.

The girl cried out in agony, her leg in an unnatural position, and sank down to the floor admitting defeat. She lay there, as still as a stone, silent tears running down her face.

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