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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

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