From March 8, 2013 until February 14, 2014
Most of the stories have the links back to the original entries, but some of them I apparently didn’t post in the book (on my writing.com portfolio) with the links. I apologize for that.
This entry has stories from 2/14 and just a short.
Slowly, surely the sand crept into the room, finding cracks and crevices to work her way inside the room. She’d been waiting years to work her way into the building, patiently allowing the wind to blow her against the walls and windows until she worked her way inside.
Once inside, she swept from room to room; piling up in places and sneaking into corners. She wanted to see everything; fill up all the curves and hide in all the niches. The rooms were empty which let her spread out across the floors and mound across them, sweeping across the area until she covered everything.
Settling in, she realized that the wait had almost been worth it. Now she had the rooms to herself, but she would never know what the two-legged forms had done here for they had left nothing behind. Her patience had not been completely rewarded.
Attack of the Chicken
Not a Flash Friday Entry, but still a new short fic</b
“He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.”
Tuggie, the dachshund, trotted across the barn yard, his tail held high as he surveyed his territory. He’d already run all the way out to the cow pasture, the farthest his little legs could carry him to visit the animals that could crush him easily. He didn’t go into the field, but ran alongside the fence; barking at the large animals.
He wandered over by the goat pen, watching the sheep dog round up the goats and kids so they could go up to the far pasture. In the past, he’d helped with this, but he was getting on in years and he couldn’t stay out from under the quickly moving feet. Now he set his front feet against the fence and watched with a critical eye, proud of the way the younger dog did his job. He hadn’t been the one training the larger dog, but he had helped show the other dog what to do.
Dropping back down, Tuggie headed towards the chicken coop, the last stop on his rounds before he headed back to the farm house. He squirmed under the gap in the fence that had been there as long as he’d been on the farm and into the coop.
The first couple of hens ignored his foray into their domain as they went about their business, scratching at the dirt and pecking for corn. As Tuggie made his way across the dirt, one of the chickens raised its head and started towards him. Tuggie stopped, eying the chicken as it matched his pace.
For a few minutes, they followed the same pace. When Tuggie moved, the chicken moved. When he stopped, the chicken stopped. When he started prancing towards the edge of the coop again, the chicken started moving. He raised one paw, flailing it at the chicken who rushed him, cawing in response.
Tuggie backpedaled as quickly as he could, suddenly worried as the rampaging chicken came at him. Before he could reach the fence, the chicken rose up slightly into the air; squawking at him. Tuggie barked back, but the chicken continued to flap at him.
Finally he had to give ground and squirmed under the fence. The chicken pursued him right to the fence, but once on the safety of the other side, Tuggie turned and barked in response. The chicken reached its head through the fence and pecked him on the back, causing the brave dachshund to yelp.
He should have known to never, ever, mess with a chicken.