DROUGHT AND DOUBT
499 Words
The days grew hotter. The ground cracked deeper. The crops wilted despite their best efforts.
The well on the east side of the farm ran nearly dry.
Eminia and Rowan spent hours each day carrying buckets from the remaining water source—too far away, too heavy, too draining.
Worst of all, the threatening letters continued.
Sell.
Leave.
You don’t belong here.
The barn was checked three times daily.
Every window was locked.
Every gate secured.
Still, Eminia struggled to sleep.
One night, as she lay staring at the ceiling, she whispered, “Mom… Dad… I’m trying. I don’t know if it’s enough.”
The silence answered her.
But it wasn’t empty this time.
It was the kind of silence that holds strength.
PART 2
The next morning, Eminia decided to search deeper into her father’s notebooks.
Something wasn’t adding up.
The mineral rights Rowan mentioned… her father never discussed them. But in the back of an old ledger, she found an unmarked page with numbers, coordinates, and a name circled twice:
Harlan Pierce
Eminia didn’t recognize it.
But Rowan did.
When she showed him the page, his jaw tightened instantly.
“Harlan Pierce…” he muttered. “He’s been trying to buy up land across the valley for years. Wealthy. Influential. Dangerous.”
Eminia’s stomach dropped.
“And he wants this farm?”
Rowan nodded grimly.
“Yes. And he doesn’t take no for an answer.”
She clutched the notebook to her chest, feeling the threat closing in like a tightening rope.
But beneath the fear was something else—anger.
This was her home.
Her parents’ legacy.
Their memories lived in the soil.
She wouldn’t give it up.
PART 3
The knock on the door came at sunset.
Slow.
Controlled.
Confident.
Rowan stepped in front of her immediately. “Stay behind me.”
When he opened the door, a tall man in a crisp suit stood outside, too polished for the countryside, too calm to be harmless.
“Good evening,” the man said smoothly. “I’m here on behalf of Mr. Harlan Pierce.”
Eminia felt her chest tighten.
The man continued, “Mr. Pierce offers a generous sum for your property. Considering your… circumstances… it’s in your best interest.”
Rowan’s voice hardened.
“She’s not selling.”
The man smiled thinly.
“That wasn’t a question.”
Eminia stepped forward before she realized she was moving, fire burning in her chest.
“This is my home,” she said. “I’m not giving it up for any amount of money.”
The man’s smile faded.
“This land doesn’t belong to you,” he said softly. “It belongs to the future. And you are standing in its way.”
He turned sharply and walked off into the dying light.
Rowan shut the door, locking it twice.
“That wasn’t a warning,” he said quietly. “It was a declaration.”
And Eminia knew the storm wasn’t over.
It was only beginning.
- Writer
