Rowley and the drought

87.Rowley Jefferson was an unusual boy. At the tender age of 11, his mental capacity was often the point of humor for those who knew him. His comprehension was unexpectedly low, even for a child his age, with an intellect that could hardly rival that of a newborn.

However, Rowley was not the focus of this story, not entirely. Rather, it was the arid untamed power of a ruthless summer that seized his town, a drought the likes of which the residents had never seen before. Streets and homes parched under an unforgiving sun, wells dried up, and lawns turned a sickly yellow. For the first time, nature had wielded a threat that even the oblivious 11-year-old could sense.

One blistering day, as sweat tricked down his father's wrinkled forehead, the dire situation materialised before Rowley's innocent eyes. His father, parched and desperate, began his quest of quenching his mounting thirst. Each turn of the tap resounded through the Jefferson's quiet home, only silence pouring from the faucet.

A quick search through the refrigerator served another disappointment—the bottles of milk, the cans of fizzy drinks, and ice lollies were all missing in action. Rowley, obliviously slurping his astoundingly large 30-million litre bottle of coke, didn't think to offer any of it to his dehydrated father, after all, he didn't want to share his favourite treat.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Their journey to the nearest store, Mr. Jefferson's mouth agape in a vain attempt to catch windborne moisture, was all in vain. The shelves that once stocked gallons of bottled water were barren, the bottles long claimed and hoarded by the panicked townfolk.

Passing the bone-dry town pond, they found desolate scenes of starved fish and dehydrated ducks. The people around, much like Rowley's dad, sat in despair with their mouth wide open, the throbbing thirst etched in the lines on their faces was touching.

However, amidst the drought, Rowley remembered the zoo. More specifically, he remembered the sizeable pond that was home to a myriad of aquatic animals. No longer able to bear his father's desperation, the idea seemed not only good but excellent.

With newfound hope and sweaty palms on the steering wheel, Mr. Jefferson drove like a man possessed. Once at the pond, he recklessly dived into it. The thirst had driven him so far off the edge that he didn't notice the ominous signboard warning of the new inhabitants.

Just as he immersed himself, chilling shouts rang in the dry summer air but Mr. Jefferson's desperate desire for water drowned out all noise. He realized, perhaps a fraction of a second too late, that he'd dived headfirst into a pool swarming with hungry crocodiles.

What unfolded next was unthinkable. Before Mr. Jefferson could quench his thirst, he was devoured, but not before a peculiar twist. One of the crocodiles bore a striking resemblance to him and was now, rather oddly, expecting a baby!

Life had a strange way of dealing with the peculiar Jefferson family. With his dad gobbled up and his mother, the only sane member of the family left shocked and speechless, Rowley was now the man of the house.

The cherry on top of the weird cake was the baby crocodile born after the incident. Surprisingly, the baby crocodile bore a striking resemblance to none other than Mr. Jefferson. With its endearing beady eyes and scaly skin, it was the uncanny image of his father.

Thus, Rowley Jefferson—a boy with the mental ability of a twig—ended up taking care of his doting mother and their new unusual family inclusion; their reptilian patriarch—a baby crocodile. Thus, the drought was unfolded and reshaped the very fabric of Rowley's life, ultimately redefining it with high creativity.