A friend of mine was generating book titles as writing prompts the other day and this one caught my eye. In real life Arizona is short of it’s annual rainfall for the year. This is never a good thing. And as happens quite often, my mind goes to a dystopian future. Below is what I came up with for The Rain Fair.

The Rain Fair

Fourteen-year-old Mackenzie lifted the last crock of goat cheese onto the homespun cloth draped over boards Pa had set across two sawhorses. Ma piled the skeins of wool they had spent the winter spinning at the other end. It looks nice, Mackenzie thought. “Can I go now?”

Her mother’s face was drawn with the exhaustion of getting here early. “Sure.” She pulled a straggling lock of hair back from her face and tucked it behind an ear. “Listen for news about the weather.” She peered up at the cloudless blue sky. “If we don’t get rain soon, the water holes will dry up and the goats will die. It’ll be the end of us.”

“OK, Ma.” Mackenzie dodged the ropes supporting the tarp over the table.

“Don’t lose yer coin,” her Ma yelled.

She waved. Ma and Dad were worried. But this was the Rain Fair. Everyone here hoped for the rains. She meandered along the midway where bright colored cloth decorated the front of tents promising wonder and adventure. Hucksters sold all sorts of things that she only saw here. She stopped at a sign, Madam Eunice, Fortunes Told. There were drawings of exotic places and pretty girls. The owner stood in the tent door. “Come, girl, I’ll tell your fortune.”

“A lie,” her father told her on the ride in. “They just want your money.” Mackenzie shook her head. The woman tried another inducement.

“I can see the future, girl. Just three coppers.”

Mackenzie fingered the coppers in her pocket, earned by selling knitted goods to the neighbors. Her hoard even had an ancient coin, from the Yousa, smooth and evenly round, not like the coins that the Arizona government stamped. “Sure.”

The woman held open the flap and Mackenzie went inside. It was stuffy in the tent and dark after the woman pulled the tent flap closed. Mackenzie sat at a cloth covered table where smoke from a bundle of sage curled up and gathered at the tent roof.

“What is your question?” The woman held out her hand.

Mackenzie pulled out three coppers. “When will the rain come?” She dropped the coins in Madam Eunice’s hand.

The woman tucked the coins in the band around her waist. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Mackenzie watched the woman sway as she hummed a single long note. “I see a young man walking with you into a brilliant sunset. Three children are born and have families of their own. You, sitting with children and grandchildren.”  The woman coughed and opened her eyes. “That is all I see.”

“That’s not what I wanted to know!” The chair skidded back when she stood.

“That’s all I see,” Madam Eunice said again, her eyes steady on the girl.

Mackenzie was furious and embarrassed. Three coppers wasted. She barged through the tent flap into the bright sun. The fortune teller’s cheat colored everything. Every tent, every stand seemed cheap and tawdry. She stopped at a crowd listening to a woman who claimed to be a water witch. She held a slender bent stick in her hand. “I can find a well for you,” she told them. “How much is cold, clear water bubbling out of your ground worth to you?” As she paced, the stick began to twitch and when she stood over a bucket, it pointed straight down.

Mackenzie snorted as she left. She wasn’t going to be fooled again. The woman made the switch do that. At the end of the midway was the arena. Later there’d be a rodeo. Now though, the Rain Callers were dancing.

People believed in the Rain Callers. They came to the fair just to watch the dances and hope for rain. It cost money to sit in the stands so she threaded her way through the standing crowd and found a place at the front where she could see. Since it was early, only a single dancer was in the ring. He wore fringed buckskin trousers though his body was bare. Long black braids with feathers and beads swung around his head. He shook a turtle shell rattle in one hand and in the other, held a painted gourd bottle. As he chanted and danced his way around the ring, he sprinkled the crowd with it.

As he approached her, she could hear him sing in the ancient Navaho. He danced in front of her and holding her gaze, sprinkled her with water then spun and danced away. She stayed until the rest of the crowd left. The Rain Caller walked over to her.

“You have a question?” He wiped the sweat from his face with a homespun rag.

“Do you make it rain?” Mackenzie looked into his dark brown eyes.

He shook his head. “I focus the rain thoughts.”

She pointed at the midway.  “Just like the rest of the huckster’s. A cheat.”

“No.” He looked at her intently. “I am the focus for the thoughts and hopes of those who need the rain. You need the rain.”

“I do. Ma and Pa’s farm will fail without it.”

“Water follows you. Just like all of the others I sprinkled in the crowd.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “You don’t know me.”

“Look.” He pointed at the people chatting in groups around the arena. “See how some have a glow?”

Disbelieving, she looked. She saw Mr. Randolf, biggest rancher in central Arizona. He had a faint blue glow about him. Mrs. Powell was talking to some ranch wives. She had a glow. Mackenzie looked at the Rain Caller. “You sayin’ I glow, too?” She looked at her arm.

“You glow,” the Caller told her. “Go to your farm. Get a water witch to help you find water.”

She watched him walk away. It would be good if she could find water on the farm. They wouldn’t have to rely on Mrs. Powell to release water from her dam. Mackenzie walked slowly back to the water witch. She’d see about the price.

The End

999 Words

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If you enjoyed this story, you might be interested in my newest Science Fiction book, A New Start, the first book in my Gulliver Station series. You can find it here: https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/books/book-detail-page?ie=UTF8&bookASIN=149540708X