Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.
2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.
3. Please credit photo to photographer.
4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.
I saw them every day, the two dogs behind the chain-link fence. I never saw anybody with them, petting them, playing with them, loving them, only two lonely dogs, wind or rain or snow or sunshine. Heat or cold. Dry or wet.
For the first month, I tried to ignore their hopeful looks, but it started hard and got harder. God, it got harder. Gradually, I started to talk to them, to pet them, feed them through the fence, slide a bowl of water underneath.
I took off from work to spent a day watching the house. No cars. No people in and out. No mail. No paper. Could they have gone and left those dogs behind? Nobody would be so cruel.
I walked back that night. They came running, tails wagging rumps. Cuddling them was heaven.
Ice laced windows dark, air almost as chilled inside as out. He was gone, lost in endless swirls of snow, temples of ice.
The dogs had returned yesterday, lay curled around each other in front of the remains of the fire. Two days of firewood left, out of reach. One day of food. Hunger prowled like wolves outside the door, growling and snuffing, searching for a way inside. She lay among the dogs, blankets piled, curling her face into thick, hot, fur.
A day later, he found her there, lost among dogs curled towards heaven.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Week of 03-15 through 03-21-2016
This week’s photo prompt is provided by pixabay.com.
“I won’t abandon you, ” I whispered. We were partners and partners never left the other behind. Command ordered the dogs left. Use’em and leave’em was their mantra. Not mine. Nor the other guys in the unit. Sampson was going home. He had a forever with me.
Johnny walked up. “Ready?”
I curled my fingers in his short fur, closed my eyes. As much as I wanted to save him, I knew anything could go wrong. Money talked but sometimes went silent. Sampson whined, moving his head to lick my face, his way of telling me everything would be okay.
God, dogs, you gotta love them.
I’d never been a dog person until Afghanistan. He’d saved my life times over and I’d saved his. He curled against me at night, keeping me warm. Curled into my lap when I was so shell-shocked I just wanted to die. He knew me better than anybody. How could I abandon that?
Rising, I nodded, giving Sampson one last hug. “Later, boy.” He barked as Johnny led him off to join the other dogs.
Mission Rescue had begun.