The Death Of A Fountain

Decent Essays
It was hot. So hot, that sweat caused clothes clung to all skin it came into contact with. This sweat was dripping off her as if it was forced water cascading from a small opening at the top of the head of a statue standing in the center of a fountain. However, it wasn’t a statue standing in the center of a fountain, but a small child on her knees leaning up against a wall. If this was not the worst bed bell dream a child receive as a gift, then the horror that came next to mind was told true. There was the taste of blueberries in her mouth that did nothing to help with the discomfort and had only added more sorrow to what she was now experiencing. Wherever this hot dark place was and where the tang of blueberry in her mouth came from, only the gods knew and she was too young to be recognized by them as one of their servants to ask those questions. This only added to the enormous mountain of confusion her mind was unsuccessfully trying to sort out. The last thing she remembered was of a wonderful bed bell dream gift, but it had suddenly turned dark and scary. Her mother and father both had tears in their eyes and her father more so of the two. She was chosen to go on a very important adventure, but she had to do so without him. Just the thought of doing something this important without her father felt terribly wrong. She could not remember a moment when she did not have her father near. It mattered little if it was to break their fast at dawn, share sun high
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