The Moments They Want to Remember

Rory set his M4 against the wall and knelt to calm the frightened black lab. After the firefight, he’d found the dog shaking and curled up in the corner of a burned out building.

Responding to the soldier’s calm voice and slow movement, the dog allowed Rory to pet and soothe him. Taking the leash that was attached to the dog’s collar, he led the beast out into daylight. Removing his helmet, Rory filled it with the last of his water, watching with concern as the dog gulped it down. Scanning the area, his eyes picked out shattered buildings, abandoned cars and debris scattered streets. The last of the insurgents had fallen only minutes ago. This section of the city was nothing but death.

Rory had befriended an eight year old boy who’d lost his older brother to the war. Abir now lived in the Green Zone and while a dog was no replacement for a brother, Rory knew the dog would be loved.

Rory had taken life that day. Now he was able to save it.

Word Count: 177

[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words.]

~V

Sneaky

“For the thousandth time, I promise you, it wasn’t me!” shouted Randall, his frustration with his mother rising.

“Oh, I suppose the dog ate the entire box of cookies and then put the empty package into the garbage!” shouted his mother.

“I don’t know,” sulked Randall. “Maybe.”

They both looked down at Diego, their new black lab puppy. He returned their stare with soft, curious eyes.

“I just don’t know what has gotten into you,” said his mother, shaking her head. “You’ve been so destructive lately. What about the bathroom incident?”

“I told you, that wasn’t me either,” exclaimed Randall, exasperated.

“Right, the dog turned on the water in the bathtub and flooded the bathroom. Is that your excuse? I suppose he ate the homework you didn’t do all of last week.”

“I did my homework. I don’t know what happened to it. Jeez, why don’t you believe me?”

“You know what?” sighed his mother, throwing up her arms. “Just go to your room.”

Randall stormed off as his mother headed in the opposite direction towards the liquor cabinet to fix herself a cocktail.

Diego belched loudly. Those cookies had been delicious.

Word Count: 193

[This is my entry into the Flash Fiction Challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner by Roger Shipp. Write a story based on a photo prompt and introductory sentence in 200 words or less.]

~V