Dry River

River of Doom Sad sight dry river, and twenty years ago it was three metre deep and had trout. We caught some with nets and, fried them on a small fire and felt like cavemen. Delicious fish meat we ate with our fingers. Every year I have seen the river getting smaller even in the winter when it rains irregularly, it is no more than a beck. There is no fish not even the skeleton of children caught by a wall of water, when it had been raining upland and into the river. Their father was arrested it was said he had killed the children, fed them to the pigs, but for a single button in the sty they sat him free. Terrible rumors every summer I see him walking along the dry river, muttering to himself trying to find his children