Jerry Sleeps

Flash fiction piece - An unusual protagonist waits for his best friend to return.

I usually don’t like this time of year. The cold air blows through the window, causing the dusty violet curtains to dance around. Ruth’s in the kitchen baking her second batch of sweet biscuits. This time they don’t taste like they used to; of course, I’m not supposed to have any, but every Thanksgiving Ruth would always slip me at least two under the table when Jerry and I would visit. Those days weren’t long ago, were they? Every season my face gains a lighter shade of color, I suppose it has been a while since Jerry left. He has been sleeping such a long time underneath that droopy tree!

            I wake from my nap to find Ruth kneeling by the fireplace throwing huge sticks into the fire, causing the fire to crackle more than usual. Her face is red and her brown eyes extra sparkly. I walk over and dig my nose under her arm. She reaches over and acknowledges my presence by gently stroking my long shaggy fur, but her gaze still concentrates on the fire. A freezing cold gust of wind disturbs the tranquil atmosphere. The curtains dance crazily, and the screen door repeatedly slams against the house. I run toward the front of the house and peer out the window. The sky is painted black now and, in the distance, I see a tall figure standing next to the tree where Jerry sleeps. The figure reaches up to its mouth with a stick of light and releases a small puff of fog. I call for Ruth and the soft fur on my back stands straight up; something is different about this mysterious figure. I obsessively scratch at the bottom of the door and twirl in a circle. Ruth walks over to the door and opens it. There is nothing. The air is calm now and Jerry still sleeps peacefully.

            It’s been a while since the figure appeared. A hazy fog hovers over the grass, leaving its wispy haunting trail among the morning air. I wake Ruth to let me out the door. She wakes sluggishly from her slumber and drags her feet along the floor. The door opens with a loud creak and I immediately dart toward the fence hoping to catch a whiff of the scent left by the stranger from before. I smell nothing. If only I could get closer to the droopy tree. Ruth walks out onto the porch, smelly mug of water in one hand and the other covering a yawn. She calls for me to come sit next to her chair; I obey. This morning is just like any other morning: same routine, smells, sights, and sounds. I lay my head on Ruth’s woolly padded foot and focus on the chirping of the birds. My eyes feel heavy. I look out toward the dark solemn tree once more and see a figure patting his legs and whistling for me. Jerry? I sleep.

 

Reviews

[Wanda Vergara-Yates]

So sad. Almost wanted the dog to cross over to meet his friend while at the same time wanting him to just dream about doing so. Ruth is still there after all, and she doesn't have to hide the biscuits anymore.

[Coda]

Thank you for your review!
You could interpret it as a dream if you wanted. :)
I like to think of the ending as ambiguous.

[Wanda Vergara-Yates]

yes, that is part of the magic either way it works.