Photos

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Oh, Deer

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For the past several weeks, we’ve had a pair of deer traipsing up our driveway, sleeping under the mimosa, and picking crabapples from our neighbors’ trees. We think it’s a doe and her baby. This evening, we spotted the larger one in the backyard so I snuck outside to get a few shots. She crossed the pasture next door and vanished into the brush.

In the five years we’ve lived here, we have only seen the occasional deer and they would always sprint off. These two have been hanging around all summer, watching us, easing closer to us. I’m thrilled I was able to catch one before they decide to move on.

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Housing Woes

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WTF?

As some of you may know, we’ve been slowly — very slowly — moving into our new place for the past six months. It’s taken a lot of trips, and a lot of money, and there’s still the fence to put up and the porch to close in and the animals to move. This afternoon, we packed a few boxes and headed that way only to find the back door swinging in the breeze and the siding underneath knocked out.

They made off with most of the copper wiring and an auger that’d been sitting on the porch. The back door is so damaged it won’t even close, it’s being held shut with a bag of cement.

The cops were called and a report was made. We doubt we’ll hear back from them anytime soon.

They think it was someone we knew, someone familiar with the house. We think we know who’s responsible, but how does that help us now?

Next step is to see how much our insurance will cover, if they’ll cover anything at all.

We have four weeks. What else can go wrong?

Old Wife's Tail

Flash Fiction Friday: Old Wife’s Tail

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© Wicked Sushi

Old Wife’s Tail

by Mekenzie Larsen

 

Whiskers tickled his chin. A weight on his chest, no lighter than a bowling ball, shifted languidly from one rib to the other. His wrists bled. His ankles were bruised. His foggy eyes rolled in their sockets till they landed on hers, sharp blue and full of poison.

He whimpered, waiting for the next strike. It didn’t take long. A practiced set of crimson-stained claws flashed across his cheek, his nose, his lips. “Why?” He could hear the others, light feet pacing the room, flooding the stairwell. Some had wandered into the basement in search of smaller prey. “Why do you do this?” He wept, salt burning a trail from his eyes to the hair at his temples. She drew closer, smiling.

“It’s not your breath we want,” she hissed. “It’s your tears.”

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