King Canute

‘Just forget it, Gerry. It’s inevitable.’

Gerry glanced at Mary, then across the lawn at the slowing rising water. He thumped the spade into the sodden earth.

He was soaked to the skin, the rain sweeping in from the west as it had been for the past week.

‘You’re going to catch your death.’

‘It’ll drain round to the side, you’ll see.’

‘Drain to where? There’s nowhere for it to drain to.’

‘I’m not giving up. It’s our home.’

‘Gerry.’

‘It’s not beating me this time, Mary.’

‘You’re acting like King Canute. Come and help me move our stuff upstairs.’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.