He lived a wonderful life. In the cottage between the hills of the valley.. Everymorning he would wake up and walk down to the river.. He had created a routine and every morning at the river he would collect the water in a big big pot and carry it back to the cottage.. along the rock side.. through the field with daisies and over the wooden bridge. past the horses.. and into his house to make himself a cup of tea. His morning tea. He didnt drink ordinary tea like you and me.. he had special tea that he made all by him self.
But.. on this day when he went down to collect the sater to make his tea. There was no water left. It was ALL gone!
*yes its raining*