The Crime-Flash Fiction

204 Word Story inspired by prompt (a beagle standing over a torn up grey cat toutou, looking up with puppydog eyes). 

I give you,


Up to my elbows in the sink and suds, I saw the crime as it happened. It was not the first time Sparky had broken…

JackJack leapt down from the ledge. He made no sound. Nose and poker-straight tail pointed towards the ceiling, he sauntered into the living room.

He ignored the dog. The first mistake. 

Curled into a watchful ball on the floor, Sparky bided his time. He feigned disinterest, innocence. Had the cat been smart, he would have noted the signs. But confident in his cat-reign of terror over the household, he strutted past. Flicked his tail just under Sparky’s nose. Wagged his furry backside as he went…

Screech! Hiss! 

I run in. Cushions and magazines are on the floor. Also broken glass and spilled milk. JackJack’s gone. Sparky’s ears lay flat. He does not look at me.

I bend down. ‘That uppity old cat had it coming, didn’t he, boy?’

Baleful brown eyes look up. Yes. 

‘Did you scare him good?’

Pink tongue hangs out. Panting. Yes!

‘Good boy! Let’s get you a treat!’ A black and brown ball of fur dashes into the kitchen.

I place soapy hands on my hips and smile.

(For Sparky and JackJack, my crazy pets)

Dyane Forde (May 2013)

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