Opossum

 

She shuddered as she grabbed the naked tail and tossed the motionless critter over the fence.

Her dog had grabbed the teenaged opossum and flung it into the air like a furry sock.

It lay, teeth bared, mouth open, folded over like a macabre little origami, obviously dead as dead can be.

The dog glared at her, then stared longingly at the sad pile of fur on the other side of the fence.

Later, the dog barked in alarm as the dead opossum righted itself, shook the dog slobber off of its fur, and waddled away, not even looking back.

Home

 

It had been a nice, peaceful trip so far.

With the way things were in the world, getting away from it all was a blessed relief, even if only for a few days.

Turning for home, they had a front row seat to what happened next.

The atomic explosions were visible from space, sparking up on almost every continent. There was no way anyone could have survived that.

They were silent for a few minutes, then one cleared his throat, and the other one whispered, “Well, I guess that’s that” and they turned back towards the vast expanse of space.

Owl

 

She never went anywhere without her phone, never.

But she was only going out to the car for her sweatshirt, and the yard light was bright enough.

Taking the dozen steps to her car, she stopped on step eight.

There was an owl on the fence next to her car.

He swiveled his head and stared at her with his amber eyes.

“Stay right there! I’ll be right back!” she whispered and trotted back into the house as quickly as she could without startling the bird.

Almost tiptoeing back outside, she slowly raised the phone’s camera.

The owl was gone.

Book

 

The book glared balefully at her from the countertop where she’d left it.

Just because it didn’t have eyes didn’t mean it couldn’t glare, because that’s what it was doing- she could feel it.

Always a supporter of independent authors, she’d picked it up at a little independent bookstore in West Texas.

The premise of the book was intriguing and she’d had high hopes for it, but when she started reading it, her hopes dropped with a moist “plop” onto the floor and oozed their way under the table, embarrassed.

It. Was. Bad.

But she could never throw it away.

Footsteps

 

The dog stared at the darkened window and growled.

She shook her head and went back to her book. He had a habit of growling at his own reflection.

When he started to pace back and forth from one side of the sofa to the other, she said, “There’s nothing there. Wanna go outside and see?” and she opened the door and followed him into his fenced yard.

The crashing of footsteps through the underbrush startled her and sent the dog into hysteria trying to get over the fence.

He ran the fenceline as dogs all around erupted in howling.

Hercules

 

Every time she crossed the foot bridge to the barn, she heard it- the quiet padding of feet behind her.

For over a decade, Hercules had been her shadow, from the moment he could toddle he was following her.

If she looked out the house window, he was there.

When she looked up from chores at the barn, he was there.

Quiet and calm with his soft kind brown eyes, he was always there.

The day he died, she was undone.

How would she go about her days without him?

The answer came every time she crossed the foot bridge.

April Fools

 

He wrinkled his nose and gagged with the first drink of coffee. It was salty as shit.

When he washed his coffee mug, the top came off the dish detergent and a river of blue soap flowed into his mug.

His slippers were missing, and there was a pair of pink bunny slippers in their place, so that’s what he wore to the mailbox.

Grabbing the doorknob to get back into the house, it was covered in olive oil and hella hard to open.

April Fools Day would be a real pain in the ass if he didn’t live alone.