It had been a musty summer, thick with choking dust storms that threatened the welfare of our agrarian community. I had been as bored as ever, traipsing through dehydrated farmland until I happened to spot something small and glittery. I pocketed the marble, and that was it.
Except, it wasn’t. I had fallen asleep near the forest one afternoon and awoke to a particularly threatening dust storm. Yet as I fled to our family’s farmhouse, the curtain of dust parted and left me clean and unharmed. I never seemed to get sick any more either, but maybe that was simply coincidence. The marble became my good-luck charm. I was safe from everything, everything but the marble.
Word count: 116. For this week’s Finish-the-Story.
Part 2 here: “impending evil”