Who Killed Cock Robin?

horses-in-snow

 

 

 

 

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The land wears the snow like a starched business shirt, crisp and bright. If writing a poem today, I’ll need more words for white.
Looking out the window, I follow the spiky tracks of a bird to a point up the garden where presumably it took flight.
But, wait a minute…other sinister tracks converge. Precise paw prints like Clubs on a suit of cards. There’s the serpentine drag of a tail, a hollow that held a crouch and a spray released with a spring.
Then a small speck of red; forensic evidence of the outcome.
The neighbour’s bloody cat again!

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

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39 thoughts on “Who Killed Cock Robin?

  1. Another good take on the prompt. There is poetry in the death of the bird. My husband and I are avid birders and still own a cat. She is getting old now, and as a foundling, has become secure in the knowledge about where her food comes from.

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    • From one avid birder to another, thank-you. There is poetry in every thing a bird does for me and I can’t feel too much against the cat as I love them too, just uncomfortable in that there are so many of them and in some areas can cause a bit of a nature imbalance.

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  2. Well, Mike, I must say I’m impressed with this one. Prosaic and very blunt. I lived most of my life in surroundings like that and we saw everything you described, except it was usually OUR cat who did the dirty work. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m endlessly fascinated by wildlife tracks in the snow (or mud) and the stories they tell. This is exactly like it is, and beautifully told–despite the sad ending for the bird. Or the happy ending for the cat. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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