Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Puddles (Flash Fiction)

Found on Google Images. I own nothing.


She jumped over the first puddle and happily danced through the second one.

Her father stood at the end of the lane, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Having fun, Analisse?” He called.

She flashed a fairy-smile at him. “It’s fun, Papi!” She twirled and made another spectacular jump. “Come play!”

“I can’t, pudding.” His smile softened and turned regretful as he watched her. “Maybe next time. Come on, we have to hurry.”

"Do we?"

"Next time." He snapped his fingers and then extended the hand, waiting.

The little girl in the solemn black dress looked up as the smile froze on her face. She inched out of the puddle and ran to hold her Papi’s hand.

They walked together, hand in hand, to the funeral home.

(c) Sara Harricharan


Joanne Sher said...

You're the QUEEN of contrasts this week so far! Love it.