A.J. Walker

writerer

Them Apples

Them Apples

Dan was jumping around like a Mexican bean. Chasing the waves down the beach and then running away as they came back. His mouth was a slobbering mess, his tongue looked two feet long out the side of his mouth; ugly beast.

Bounding up he sent slobber onto my jeans and then shook himself showering me in brine.

I picked up the stick and made to throw. Dan stood fast waiting for me to let go. I threw it along the beach and he bolted of to fetch it. He dropped it at my feet; those pathetic eyes.

No messing. I flung it as far as I could into the sea. Dan set off adjusting his stride to get through the water. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.

It was a shame. That’s what I’d say. A horrible accident. Undertow. I tried everything.

Why had she named the dog after the love of her life? How was I ever to bond with that mutt? Reminding me how I was a replacement. She loved Dan: the dog, and the man.

Well, now both Dan’s were gone. Let’s see how she likes them apples.



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WC: 200 words
Last Line First, January 2015