“I’m cold.”
“So stand closer to the flames.”
“Are you serious?”
“We’re going to be here awhile. No sense catching a chill.”
“They told us to stay back.”
She stared through me. “Perhaps you can sit in the ambulance. Go ask someone.” She turned back to the blaze.
I clutched the blanket from the EMTs and marched away, each step crunching in the snow.
Months later, we developed film from a camera that survived the fire. On the table, next to the candles Mother would later light, was the tabby.
I told her that cat was up to no good.
(C) Scott L. Vannatter
The delightful word-smith Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts Friday Fictioneers, a weekly flash fiction challenge beginning with a photo prompt and a 100-word limit to craft a complete story. Check it out and join the fun!
As always, happy trails!
The Mom Who Runs: 
Dear Sara,
We all know that cats can’t be trusted. Cute story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Greetings, Rochelle!
They certainly can’t be trusted when curiosity has been piquedď
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They were lucky to get out, it seems. Good story.
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Thanks! They were lucky, indeed. A small fire, confined to the kitchen…still, lots of smoke damage. And there’s nothing like the smell of roasted linoleum.
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Heh, infernal kitty! 🙂
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Thanks! Ha, ha. That darn cat. 🙂
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It’s not the one from the ‘cat came back’ animation is it? 🙂
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Probably a relative. 😉
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