Like us on Facebook
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Due to my scheduling error, this has gone live on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Consider it a Christmas or Hanukkah present. Easier to leave it than take it down and start over. Oops.
Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! This week I’m taking a break and posting a retread from nearly six years ago. Some may recognize the story. (different photo) A special thank you to those who have been with Friday Fictioneers as long or longer than I.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR
In 1918 Dad deployed to France singing “Over There” and returned, months later, a sullen shell.
Then, for Christmas 1919, Grandma gave me a stub-tailed, bull-terrier puppy.
Instead of the “you-can’t-keep-it” snarl I expected, Dad grinned.
“He’s the spittin’ image of the bravest soldier in the 102nd. Bullets and mustard gas couldn’t defeat him.”
“He looked like a dog?”
“Not ‘looked like,’ son. I’d a never made it outta the trenches if that pooch hadn’t…”
Dad coughed and blinked, took my pup under one arm, straightened to attention and raised his hand-hook to his brow.
“Sergeant Stubby, I salute you!”