Flash fiction is an umbrella term used to describe any fictional work of extreme brevity, including the Six-Word Story, 140-character stories, also known as twitterature, the dribble (50 words), the drabble (100 words), and sudden fiction (750 words)
The elephant’s trunk had been twisted out of shape and ears torn. It was missing a tusk, in fact a good portion of its forehead too was gone. As for the stomach, there was a gaping hole in its underside. The only thing left intact was the tail. But what was an elephant that was only tail?
Raghu felt his lower lip trembling. But he didn’t want to cry. Not now, not in front of his sister while she stared at him unblinkingly with those huge eyes of hers.
He quietly started picking up the small, smooth pebbles which now lay scattered. He had gathered them from the dry river bed when he visited grandpa. Scooping up what was left of the elephant, the intact tail along with the torn ears, twisted trunk and the rest, he put them in the transparent container his grandma had given him to keep the pebbles safe.
When he had them all, Raghu looked around for the lid. Had it rolled beneath the sofa? He turned when he heard a tap-tap sound. His sister was making for him on all-fours with the plastic lid tightly clutched in her hand as if she knew what he was looking for. Dada, she said, holding out the lid, and for good measure, a few more, dada, dada, dada.
His eyes were still wet with unshed tears at his artwork being destroyed, after all making the perfect outline of an elephant on the drawing room floor using pebbles was hard work. But he smiled when he heard the dada. Gently he pried open her fingers and took the lid from her.
She waved her hands enthusiastically and gurgled happily at him. Yes, yes. I know what you are telling me. Such tiny hands, but mighty enough to fell an elephant, right? Raghu couldn’t stop laughing at his own joke.
©Shail Mohan 2017