Sunday Photo Fiction 10-4-2017


Taxidermy fox at Natural History Museum, London


 

“Poor little fellow,” Johnny remarked, peering in at the taxidermied fox behind the glass. He wondered how long had been dead; why somebody decided to stuff it and put it in a museum. Wouldn’t it be better to see the fox alive, in the wild?

Dan shrugged. “It’s just a dog.”

“Fox,” Johnny corrected.

“Whatever. Come on, I want to get some chips before we go back to the bus.”

That had been Senior Year, twenty years past, but he still remembered the dead fox. He had no idea if Dan had gotten his chips, but the blank look on the fox’s face had stayed with him all those years.

Putting his binoculars back up to his eyes, he watched the kids tumbling and playing around the den.  Mother fox lay nearby, guarding her kids from that dead fox, twenty years in the past, blank eyes staring into nothing.