For years my wife and I hid the last living elephant on earth in our home. We stole her from a traveling circus when she was smaller than a Volkswagen. Once fully grown she could flatten a wall with a careless hip, send us reeling with the flap of an ear. But we knew she was really a giant soap bubble and the world a sharp pin.
We trusted no one and taught her the same. We painted a keyboard and candelabra on her side, trained her to stand motionless when the door belled. It was tricky when friends wanted an old-fashioned singalong or relatives stayed the night. But we managed to defy the odds. Till Fate tired of our poaching.
Many new moon nights we’d unhouse her to scratch against the backyard oak. The one time we trusted clouds, a full moon banged into the clear. It looked like the barrel of a firing gun. They came for her before dawn.
Our hearts felt her whole bulk when she balked at the ramp, her upraised trunk spewing out stars that will mark, forever, her passing.
'Losing the Elephant' first appeared in Riggwelter on 23 in July 2019
Saturday, 6 June 2020
'Losing the Elephant' by David Henson
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
FlashFlood 2023 is OPEN for submissions for one week only!
We are delighted to announce that we are open for submissions for FlashFlood 2023 from 12:01 a.m. BST on Sunday, 30 April to 23:59 BST on Sa...
One day the planet tilted just ever so slightly to the left and everyone and everything I’d ever known in between fell off. It wasn’t easy t...
A girl sits, waiting. She reaches above her head for a girl. A girl to pluck from the tree of girls. The tree is full and ripe, the perfect ...
A shaft of sunlight fell across the worn herringbone floor, drawing his gaze upwards to the flawless blue sky beyond the row of windows, ...
Post a Comment