New Crescent Moon

It’s First Line Friday over at the MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Blog. The first line of our story or poem will be “Summer died that night.

Summer died that night.

Logically, I knew it had to happen. But when it did, it felt like a sucker punch. For a split second, I didn’t see it coming.

I’d braced myself for it —or tried to. Each day that passed was one less day we’d have together. I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer, but each day was a little sadder than the day before.

There was a new crescent moon the night it happened.  I couldn’t see shit, but was looking  out my bedroom window anyway. Who knows why. Pretty soon, a set of dual headlights made their way up our long dirt driveway. Then I heard the screen door slam and saw Mom & Dad walk up to the truck with the dual headlights.

They spoke for a few minutes by the truck, but I couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. I recognized the voice of our veterinarian though, and wondered why he was here.

As they all turned and began walking back toward the stables, it hit me: Summer.

Then, that tiny sliver of a moon slipped behind the clouds.


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