Eight Feet Down | One-Hundred-Word Story

What sort of family packs up everything they own and drives west? A sand choked, dead broke family, living in the bowels of the dust bowl, that’s who. The old jalopy barely made it over the mountains, only to boil over crossing the desert. Where do you find water from a sea of sand in the middle of nowhere? Maybe it was because of their delusional thirst, but dad and his sons began to dig— down three sandy feet, then six. Eight feet down they found a metal sign: “There’s no water on Mars. Go back to your own planet.”