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)

She dug a shallow hole in the hard ground beneath the giant rain tree behind her house, and gently laid him to rest.  This was where she had found him, alone and broken, and taken him in. She was sure he’d like his final sleep to be beneath the green canopy, listening to the songs of birds. She wiped away tears leaving wet streaks of dirt on her face. Gently, she covered him with dirt, patting it all down, shaping it into a tiny mound.

From the corner of her eye she saw the cat watching her from atop the wall and studiously ignored it. She was not going to talk to that loathsome creature. Imagine being so mean to her after the way she loved it as her own? Tickles behind ears, belly-rubs, enough food, what’s more, letting it sleep in her own warm bed without mom knowing, and what does the cat do? Fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered.

There were a few yellow and purple colored wild flowers growing near the hedge. She walked over to pluck a few of them and was busy decorating the grave. Mrrreowrr! She almost jumped at the sound so close to her. The cat had silently sneaked in and was moving towards the grave. Nooooo! she cried out angrily as the cat started determinedly pawing at the loose dirt. No, you don’t, not after what you did to him!  

She held the cat firmly with one hand and looked around. There it was, just the thing she needed, a smooth round stone. It was big, and heavy enough too. She quickly rolled it over and gently and firmly placed it over grave.  She stepped back satisfied, a triumphant half-smile on her face. You may have killed my bird, cat, but you are not going to eat him, you nasty cat.

©Shail Mohan 2018

Daily Prompt: Bury