Imaginative-girl

     I grew up in a small town just a few dozen miles from the closest water source—a slowly shrinking aquifer that squatted underneath the seat of Thompson County, our neighborly border. Fortunately, we hadn't yet been quite as devastated by our annual droughts as those in Oklahoma and Texas. Rumors would occasionally drift in with a tumbleweed traveler about how bad the deep South had dried up into nothing but an old dusty lake bed, but these flashes of news were too few and too far between to be counted on as up to date or even true.     Once, I heard one of my distant cousins, a boy by the name of Harold, was said to have been caug