With bad weather approaching, Robbie’s wife Kara begged him not to take their little boy riding. “But I’ve finished all my homework, Mom!” the child pleaded.
“Fine, Roger,” Kara acquiesced. On seeing similar expressions on Robbie’s and Roger’s faces, Kara could barely contain her laughter. Putting a hand on her husband’s arm, she whispered, “Be careful.”
Because of the coming storms, Robbie told Roger it would have to be a short ride. Quick to agree, lest Dad change his mind about going out at all, Roger mounted the big horse, Nitro, behind his dad. As they crossed the little bridge over Calloway Creek, Roger nervously scanned the sky. Sensing violent weather on the horizon, the horse grew skittish. Nervously tossing his head to and fro, Nitro flattened his ears.
At a quick flash of lightning, followed by the crack of thunder, the horse bolted, turned fast, and stopped suddenly. Terrified as the large horse reared up, its head and mane silhouetted in the flashes of light against a dark sky, little Roger lost his grip on his father’s waist. Struggling against slippery mud, the panicked horse lost its footing. As it tossed Robbie high into the air, its full weight landed on his child. One sharp, iron-shod hoof clipped Robbie in the head.
With Robbie’s memory cutting in and out following the head injury, that terrible, final silence of his son would be, blessedly, a periodic sentence.
In keeping with the old adage, “Show, don’t tell,” I give you pathos and a periodic sentence. And maybe even a bit of #flashfiction in honor of #StoryADayMay. The real Queen of #StoryADay is my friend Marian Allen. Be sure to follow her blog for a daily treat this month!
Nahh, I’m not biased just because I’m such a character.