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a beautiful life

Updated on December 14, 2014

Dead Horse- fiction

A story I wrote based on when my horse had died. Animal lovers can relate to. We all have stories we can relate to in life about dying and death... this is just one of them. Dying is often the start of new life, but we never realize that. It is the coming of an new season.

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Flash fiction

DEAD HORSE

“Come and get it!” Dad yelled out and I stopped doing my homework. I emerged from my bedroom and hungrily sat down at the dinner table, ready to eat, feasting my eyes on supper.

“Roast, yum!” I exclaimed joyfully.

I started cutting into my roast beef, noticing mum sniffling in the corner of the room, as she ate with us.

Pretending not to notice mum drying her tears, I scowled, mum was always crying about something.

I grabbed the sauce bottle and emptied out the contents onto my full plate. Shoving a spoon full of peas into my mouth, one escaped, fleeing onto the floor.

“Oops, peed on the floor,” I laughed, trying to scoff at my mum’s bizarre behaviour, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

She started howling, “It’s not fair!”

My hands trembled, I was worried I’d upset mum.

Dad looked at me with a blank expression on his face.

“What’s not fair, mum?” I asked, intrigued by the secrecy, while I felt some shame in my actions.

“They killed Flossie! A dogger took her away. I sold her for two hundred bucks!”

Frozen, I sat staring at mum, convinced what I heard was not true.

“What do you mean, mum?” I wanted her to repeat what she’d said, to make sure I’d heard right.

“They killed her. I’m sorry. She had Cancer,” She howled again, like a wild animal.

We sat, trapped in a moment of silence, at the table. Dad and I picked at our foods absentmindedly.

Abruptly dad reached out his hand across the table towards me.

“Pass us the dead horse?” Dad smirked cheekily.

“You both are sick,” I chucked the sauce bottle at dad, who barely blinked. “Both of you can have it. You’re like two bloody sick animals. Maybe you both need to be shot.”

Storming out of the room, I ran and collapsed onto my bed. Tears flooded down my face. Flossie was one of the only things I’d ever cared about.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled. Then I remembered where I’d heard that before…

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