Alice And the Fly
“Your father was drinking in the TV light again. Scraps was snoring in the shed. I knelt till I could make out his sleeping head through the missing-plank gap. I whistled. He raised an ear but the rest of him stayed asleep. I whistled again and tapped the side of the shed and he yawned and turned to me. He scrambled to his feet to bark but before he had the chance I reached in with a bag of leftovers: yesterday’s blackened salmon. He stopped and sniffed and trotted towards me, as far as his chai...n would allow. He picked the salmon from my hand and carried it to his corner.
It was a tight squeeze through the missing-plank gap. The shed shuddered so much I thought it might collapse. Scraps tilted his head to watch me. I told him ‘there-there’. I tickled his ear. He whined and carried on eating. The shed smelt of metal. The only light came from a shaft of moonlight, spilling through a gap in the ceiling. Various rusted garden tools hung from various nails, their shadows dancing up the walls.MoreLess
It was a tight squeeze through the missing-plank gap. The shed shuddered so much I thought it might collapse. Scraps tilted his head to watch me. I told him ‘there-there’. I tickled his ear. He whined and carried on eating. The shed smelt of metal. The only light came from a shaft of moonlight, spilling through a gap in the ceiling. Various rusted garden tools hung from various nails, their shadows dancing up the walls.MoreLess
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