His Eyes.


There is something about older men that just made her tick. They were nice,pampering, bought things without care. They had spent their life amassing wealth and now just wanted to spend it. So she was excited when she saw the papers. She dreamed of rides in yachts, spa and sauna trips. But on arrival, her old man was not what she expected. 

The daily walks on the immaculate pavements of the home were the best. He was patient as she pee’d here and there, stopped to sniff this and that and at the junction under the flame trees she would stand and jump up and down, barking, calling on the others. They would bark back but could never came close enough and she couldn’t go to where they were. She craved to play, she craved to be just be a girl with no responsibility. 

But they always turned right, never left toward the gate. It was how it was meant to be. A seeing dog must always follow routine or it would upset the senses of her human. 


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!

 Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers



17 thoughts on “His Eyes.

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