Flash Fiction Challenge
Writing prompt: A man’s dog (or pet of your choice) develops the uncanny ability to communicate telepathically with him.
By Thain in Vain
Jake and Tina giggled on the ride home as they listened to the light mews from their new kitten. Poor thing had started its life in a garbage can and they felt just great about giving him a home. They fell in love with his unique gray and white tabby markings, especially the little star shape just behind left ear. They decided to call him Starry.
When they arrived home and introduced Starry to Gilly, their Chihuahua. It wasn’t the warm welcome they wanted, but a silent standoff is better than an all-out-battle.
Don’t . . .
A rhythmic thumping woke Jake and Tina. It was Gilly banging his head against the bed frame. Jake picked up Gilly. His little body, tight, quivering like an arrow that hit its target. “Is he okay?” Asked Tina. Jake checked the tiny body of their beloved dog. His fingers roamed over bird-like bones, checking for breaks. Gilly sat quietly, his large watery, expressive eyes gazing into Jake’s.
“Everything seems okay to me. That was weird.” Tina agreed. They settled back into bed, Gilly nestled between them.
Starry sat on the window scene watching the happy little scene.
Don’t . . .
“Did you say something, Tina?”
“I heard someone say, don’t.”
“Don’t forget to take out the garbage.”
“Very funny.” But Jake didn’t think it was funny. He had an uneasy feeling about that don’t, but couldn’t put his finger on it.
Jake opened the door to find a kitchen covered with garbage. Every inch of the floor covered with the contents of the can: carrot peels, chicken scrapes, toast crusts, asparagus tips—at least five days of the remnants of meals littered the kitchen. “Gilly,” Jake bellowed. Gilly crawled out of the kitchen. Jake wondered how tiny Gilly could make this mess. It was a pretty big mess.
Starry sat on the top of the fridge looking at the action below.
Don’t . . .
Jake cocked his ear, listening for another word. Hearing nothing he set about cleaning up the mess.
. . . leave . . .”
A high-pitched screech jarred Jake and Tina from sleep. They sat blinking into the darkness, hearts racing. “That was Gilly,” said Tina, barely containing the panic in her voice. Jake leapt out of bed and ran toward the sound, Tina on his heels. They found Gilly, broken, blood draining from his tiny body from a large wound in his neck. Tina screamed, Jake scooped the body into his arms, and cried out in disbelief. It was then they noticed the writing on the wall–in blood. It said, “Don’t leave me alone with Starry.” Tina let out a heartbreaking wail.
Starry sat on the couch watching the scene.