Thank you for the prompt and putting these together,
, The Fiction Dealer!I remember Bonapart. Sometimes, the other dogs liked to nip and chase him. Pa would just shake his head and lock “Old Bones” in the shed when he went on hunts.
One day, a dead badger lay on the porch – and Bonapart guarded it like a treasure.
“Think he found that thing somewhere? Surely, he didn’t…”
After that, the cowardly pack and Pa kept a close eye on Old Bones till his badger fell to pieces and they both disappeared.
I love your short stories Tracy! I hope you decide to make a compilation some day! 💖
How much feeling you can get in a very short story just blows me away. I love this.