Flash Fiction Fridays

It's time for another installment of Flash Fiction Fridays. Today's flash fiction is dear to my heart. It is the fictionalization of when my sister and I found our kitten Romeo. (And, no, my sister's name isn't really Winter. I just used it for the story.) Enjoy!

Romeo

My parents found a kitten, and my sister and I decided to rescue it.

Winter and I trekked up to our neighbors' house and up their driveway. The heat bore down upon us, despite the brief relief from afternoon rains. Our mom told us the kitten was around the first tree in our neighbors' driveway.

Stopping at the first tree, we looked for the kitten. "Here, kitty! Kitty, where are you?" We didn't hear a peep from the little creature.

"Maybe it left," my sister said.

"Maybe." I chewed on my lower lip. "Let's see if it's at the next tree." We continued along the steep driveway and searched around each tree.

Then, I spotted the smoke. "There's the smoke, and there must be the tree." I pointed, and we both hurried up the hill.

"Kitty? Kitty?" We both called, but there was still no sound.

I paused and pointed to the poor little body at the side of the rock driveway. The headless body. "There's the other kitten they mentioned." Queasiness rumbled in my stomach, and I glanced away from the ghastly sight.

"I don't even want to look at the fire," Winter commented.

I agreed with her. The other kittens had been burned. It was an accident, but it was still dreadful. I imagined a battle would look like that. Burned bodies and the decapitated ones. All lying carelessly here and there.

Where was our lone survivor of the battle, though?

We left the path and stepped into the tall grasses. I spotted him first. This tiny little kitten no bigger than my hand leapt through the tall grass towards us. It had no fear, and it began to cry. "Mew, mew!"

"Aww! Hi, sweetheart." I scooped the kitten up, checked its sex, and held him close. "A little boy kitty." He snuggled against me while his body shivered with cold. His fur was wet from the afternoon rains, and he smelled of smoke and motor oil. The fire must have singed part of his rear fur. It was short and brittle. Poor little striped kitty, I thought.

"How old do you think he is?" Winter took the kitten from me.

"A few weeks, three…maybe four. It's hard to tell. He's so little." I knew in that moment that he was our kitten.

In a few days, he became our Romeo. He had won our hearts.

Here is a picture of Romeo and me taken last night (9.2.2010). By the way, it was taken on my new Nikon Cool Pix camera. *grins*