The Aquarian

for microdosing fiction 100 words

Dad was an Aquarius. “Pffft! All bollocks,” he’d say, drawing a small sigil on the pad of his thumb. He always marked himself before heading into the garden — no flowers, only herbs, gnarly roots, and prickly things. The ground was clay so hard he needed an iron spike to break it, and there was a strange stream (but only after rain) that bubbled up through the rocks and vanished a few hundred feet later — just like the River Styx.

Dad said it led somewhere.
I never asked where.

Dad was an Aquarius.
Pffft! All bollocks, I reckon.

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Written for the FictionDealer’s Microdosing Fiction: 100 words including Aquarius