Errol
by Ann Bogle
Errol blamed the sunrise for his lack of productivity during the day. He prided himself on being not menacing like a bear. He was not missing any fingers or even parts of them. His gray whiskers itched as he dragged the fingers he used at the piano to his face. His instinct led him to think of the nurse Jennifer whose retirement would be secure. She had once wrapped her arms around his spacious middle and tilted her head up to see his distant face. She was much shorter than he. The sky rarely prohibited her.
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Author's Note
I tuned in to Meg Pokrass' flash fiction workshop on youtube and wrote this following the first prompt.
Other stories by Ann Bogle
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hey ann--- good to see you again in these parts--
*
Instinct led me to see and hear Burl Ives singing "A Little Bitty Tear Let Me Down" as I read this.
"His gray whiskers itched as he dragged the fingers he used at the piano to his face."
Great.*
Good micro, Ann. The closing sentence is powerful: "The sky rarely prohibited her."
Great to read more of your work here--
Love it from the blaming of the sunrise all the way through.*
The genius character of flash, which you exploit beautifully here, is that it leaves supplying the narrative to the reader, arrange the parts how she will.
I like what Ackley said above. You left the right amount to the reader.
The suggestion of a story with all the hints of remembered perfume.
Just love that opening, and everything that followed *