A game of tag.

Boris stared at the other side of the barb wire fence, the minutes of his lunch hour slowly ticking off. Try as he might, he could not recall the fence being there earlier in the day. Intensifying his glare, he searched for something, but wasn’t sure exactly what he was searching for.

His sandwich started to taste a bit off. Why was he eating lunch outside?

Mike took note of Boris growing uneasy attitude, so did Nigel. An unspoken message was passed, like paid mourners at a funeral they started to sing Boris’s praise, they wailed on cue, smiled at a flash and embraced in seclusion. Boris forgot the fence, forgot his worries and ignored the coffin.

He sang, he danced, he dreamed.

Suddenly lunch was over, everyone scurried back to business, except him.

An outdoor lunch had been fun at the time, but now his foot won’t move, he was stuck in a coffin piled high with dirty dishes. No water, no soap, no friends.

And the dogs wondered what sort of game these humans played.

Copyright Yinglan

Apologies my story might not make a lot of sense.

In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from Yinglan (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories. 

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20 thoughts on “A game of tag.

  1. Boris sounds a bit on the depressed side with Mike and Nigel making some fun to cheer him up and with his singing, dancing and dreaming it must have worked. Seems he forgot his searching for something beyond the fence. However now he is stuck with dishes and nothing to work with. I guess the dogs looked on with wonder. Gee! If dogs could talk!

    Liked by 2 people

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