September 13, 2017

Flash Fiction by Daginne Aignend: "Squish and Wobble"

Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch writer, poetess, and photographic artist Inge Wesdijk.
She likes hard rock music and fantasy books. She is a vegetarian and spends a lot of time with her animals.
Daginne posted some of her poems on her Facebook page and on her fun project website www.daginne.com, she's also the co-editor of Degenerate Literature, a poetry, flash fiction, and arts E-zine
She has been published in several Poetry Review Magazines, in the bilingual anthology (English/Farsi), 'Where Are You From?' and in the Contemporary Poet's Group anthology 'Dandelion in a Vase of Roses'.








SQUISH AND WOBBLE

I don't why, but I never trusted the neighbor across the street.
Something in the sneaky way he stared and glared. I simply didn't like the man, though he acted polite and kind.
'I'm absolutely fond of your animals' he said, meanwhile trying to caress my striped cat, Zora. Picky as always,  she turned her elegant bum towards him and she made a runner.
'Oh, and these adorable lovebirds' he's squinting into the pigeons house and clicks with his tongue. My mostly social turtle doves are hiding quickly behind the feeder, away from his prying eyes. The two rabbits, Squish and Wobble, had his special interest 'Such cute fluffies'  he said, 'very tasty'. I thought I saw him drool a little. I  should have been more suspicious of his behavior but I always try to see the good things in a person and reckoned he really liked my dear pets.
One day, I saw him crossing the street in the direction of my garden and an alarm bell went off in my head. He looked haggard and the most frightening part was that he was carrying a large kitchen knife, clung in his cramped fist.
It looked like he was heading to the rabbit hutches. The bunny mom awoke in me and I grabbed the broom out of the corner of the kitchen and ran after him.
Just in time to prevent him for what he was about to do when he whispered 'juicy rabbit steaks' and I gave him a mighty blow on the head. When he regained consciousness I told him he passed out, just like that. While he rubbed the back of his head, and I saw a very satisfactory lump, he shuffled back to his small house.

Since that day, he changed. Apathetic, he didn't talk and stared into some unknown horizon.  
So now and then, he wakes out of his lethargy, eyes wide-open, screaming 'sweet fluffies, so cute, so cute' after which he sinks back in his languishing state.  I smiled when I went to the kitchen and saw the old broom, the spell still worked. 

© Daginne Aignend



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