April 9, 2024

Her First Dead Body

By Annette Gulati

She’s six years old when she sees her cat dangling from her father’s hands in the open doorway of her bedroom, a circus act in her very own hallway. She pulls the chenille bedspread over her head so she won’t have to watch the performance, won’t have to stare at Nipper’s green eyes, still open, won’t have to gape at his mangled grey fur or his battered head. He got run over by a car, her father says, and she chokes back her tears so the ringmaster won’t get irritated. She’s already wise enough to know this is not a magic trick. A stunt, perhaps, but no magician, no sorcerer, can bring her innocent cat back to life. She imagines him soaring through the air when the car hits his body, tumbling into a nearby gutter, or perhaps a street far away from home. Where did you find him? She’s never brave enough to ask this question. For years, she’s a reluctant audience to her cat’s recurring demise, caged by nightmares of her father’s theatrics. Not until the caravan has left town, does she suspect that Father, often inebriated, drove over Nipper himself. Perhaps even in the driveway.

About the Author

Annette GulatiAnnette Gulati’s work has appeared in The Dribble Drabble Review, NUNUM, Five Minutes, 50-Word Stories, Bright Flash Literary, and elsewhere. She’s also written twelve nonfiction books for children. She lives near Seattle, WA. Find her at www.annettegulati.com or on X: @AnnetteGulati.

Related Flash
Bees on honeycomb

Hive

By Kelli Short Borges

Mandy says she’s queen of seventh grade and we’re her workers and she “ha ha ha’s,” but her eyes flash venom and it’s annoying because Mandy’s the new girl and already thinks she’s royalty but she’s so pretty that we whirr around her…

white metal railings near swimming pool

Libation

By Matthew Jakubowski

“I later learned people had a lot of opinions about the kind of people we were, and our so-called lifestyles, a word they thought was so vaguely clever. “

crab key ring on table

Things That Are Easy To Lose

By Lisa Alexander Baron

“His questions and routines were now devoid of any impressions, substance, or the least bit of meaningful weight. His every word, every gesture—all too easy to ignore. Like a wet paper towel. A wrapper from a peppermint candy, minus the mint scent.”

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This