Member-only story
RUPERT
Flash Fiction
Rupert came with the place.
Along with a few sorry-looking hens and a broken-down, ride-on mower.
At first, they were going to give him away.
After all, what good was a donkey going to be?
It wasn’t like he knew how to pull a cart.
And he was too old to do anything much more than sleep.
We’ll get rid of him in the spring, Henry said.
Good idea, Helen agreed.
But it was a long winter.
With unseasonably cold temperatures.
And more snow than they’d seen in a decade.
What about Rupert, Helen said. He isn’t used to the cold.
Don’t fuss, Henry said. He’ll be fine.
But just the same, he put some extra straw in the barn and gave Rupert a bran mash almost every night.
Don’t get too attached to him, Helen said. He’ll be gone in a couple of months.
But she went to work and made him a blanket to wear for the days when the air turned blue with the cold — a nice red tartan lined with green fleece.
Doesn’t he look smart, she said, as Rupert trotted around in the field behind the house.
