Posted in flash fiction

Dead Leg – Friday Fictioneers

Freddy lost his leg again.

The town drunk hops down the street. His backpack, wearing thin from years of service and homelessness, flops ungracefully with each wavering leap and land.

“Fred, where’s your leg?” The shopkeeper is a kind man with fluid soul in his eyes.

I imagine Freddy has soul in his eyes but through overgrown, matted hair there’s no telling.

He hops past the shopkeep, visibly shaking as he lands.

“Fred, your leg?”

Freddy freezes, we all know he’s a stubborn man. His mouth works silently, formulating words he doesn’t quite have.

“That’s Dad to you.” Freddy mumbles.

leg-up-jhcPHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Word Count: 100

Thank you as always to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for putting together Friday Fictioneers.


Letters from inside my head

32 thoughts on “Dead Leg – Friday Fictioneers

  1. Great take on the prompt, Kelley. Some of the homeless I’ve visited with very prideful and sometimes downright hateful. Many suffer from mental illness. You never know what kind of response you’ll get when you approach one. You did a great job conveying that in this story.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “Fluid sould in his eyes.” Nice. And then just when I thought you were getting all literary ( meant most affectionately, it’s the vein of writing i tend to go for) you drop in the humor of not being able to see the dad’s soul for all the matted hair. Great!

    Minor typo? My choice would be to capitalize “Dad” in the last sentence ( very poignant by the way), since it’s being used as a name.

    Liked by 1 person

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