Flash Fiction Fridays

 Six Weeks

Winter’s chill crept along my backside and buried itself deep within my pelt. I shivered, wishing they wouldn’t drag me out from my warm burrow. Like I can tell the weather beyond the fact it’s freezing my tail off!

Snow clung to my fur. Yes, it’s snowing…again. I’m so sick and tired of this weather. When will spring come? Is it true it’ll come early? Or do we have six more weeks of the dreadful winter?

I can hear them chanting. “Phil, Phil, Phil.”

Why do they insist on calling me Phil year after year? The name’s Fred. I want to scream. They’d never listen. Stupid people don’t understand.

Worst of all, they wake me out of my nice hibernation. I still had time left to sleep.

Nope, they’ve gone and woke me up.

Then, they blame me if I see my shadow. Bastards! Dumb wives tales.

He lifts me up again, and I wince. I hate heights.

If I squeeze my eyes shut really tight and don’t see anything, will it count? I hope so. No more winter. I hate you.

The wind burns my face. The man’s gloves ruffle my fur. I just want to go home.

My eyes water and open against their will. I see—

Nothing.

Beautiful relief. Early spring. Yes!