Final Lament ~ prosery

Final Lament

I paddle along a river on a quiet morning. Except for the hoarse “kee-eeeee-arr” of a hawk high overhead, the air is as still as the water. Drifting between the shadow of overhanging trees and the light of open air, I see a lone Mourning Dove on a branch of a dead oak at the edge of a small bluff. The silence is broken as it seems to address me with its lamenting call. As plaintive as it sounds, there is a comforting tone to it, perfect for the serenity of the morning.

I drift past, leaving it well behind me, when, far away, an interrupted cry reaches me. Dragging my paddle to the side of my kayak, I swing around to see the hawk dropping to the ground beneath the oak, dove tightly clutched, reminding me of the fragile nature of my surroundings.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #1, presented by Björn at dVerse. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For Prosery #1, the line to be included is “When far away an interrupted cry” from Robert Frost’s “Acquainted with the Night.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: The Cornell Lab of Ornithology (edited here)

I Suppose a Kick in the Butt is Better than a Kick in the Head

I Suppose a Kick in the Butt is Better than a Kick in the Head

Boy with Animals, Else Berg

I Suppose a Kick in the Butt is Better than a Kick in the Head

Rabbit might look frightened, but that’s because he’s worried for me. I’m sure Mama wonders why I cry every day at naptime, but it’s not out of loneliness. Rabbit understands. Somehow, he managed to get out of the crib, where Donkey can’t reach him.

I never have to worry at bedtime. By the end of the day, Donkey is too tired to cause any trouble, and he usually falls asleep before I do. But this is naptime, and he’s up to his usual games.

Donkey likes to bray in my ear. When I try to ignore him, he kicks me. He’s smart, too. He makes sure to kick me through my diaper, so he doesn’t leave a mark. I’m really tired in the afternoon, but it’s so hard to fall asleep with all that braying and kicking.

And then there’s Cow. Maybe she means well. Maybe she’s trying to make up for Donkey’s games, but licking my face all the time is no help. She has to have the roughest tongue I’ve ever felt.

Rabbit usually escapes torment by burrowing in the blankets. I’m glad he got out, today. I sure wish he would go and get Mama.

Or, consider this last paragraph (for 199 words), more in line with Jane’s sinister mind:
Rabbit usually escapes torment by burrowing in the blankets. I’m glad he got out, today.  Wait, is that a steak knife he’s holding?

For Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge #6: The child, she provides a painting by Else Berg, Boy with Animals, and the theme loneliness. I was able to keep the word count to 200 words.
Of course, Jane’s critique is welcome.

Image source: Wikipedia