Normanday #68: Here today, gone tomorrow.
Write for three minutes about…
…extinction.
Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the
day March 24 (put “Norman is Charming” in the subject line). I’ll post as many
of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even
better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a
published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted
with your entry.
Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write
for three minutes about…
…something you lost or something you found.
Tren Rewy Steb
We got a puppy. We argued what to call her. We all wanted her to sleep in our bed. One afternoon we couldn’t find her. We walked around the house calling her name. No puppy came running. We walked down the busy highway. No puppy there. I was glad for that. The cars moved so fast. We went down a dirt road. Evergreens along the side were surrounded by high weeds, sticks, and wrappers. Just the kind of place a puppy would love. We weren’t walking any more. We ran, calling and calling, but no puppy came running. I wanted to keep looking, but Dad said we had to go home. I walked slowly, peering into the brush, hoping to see the tip of a sweeping tail. No puppy. Home again and in a daze. The puppy had been a surprise. I never thought I’d have a dog and now she was already gone. How could I go back to being a person without a dog? Mom asked if we’d had any luck. She was sorting laundry. Jeans and dark shirts in one pile, wet towels and underwear in another. And there she was. Curled up, lost in sleep like only a tired puppy can be, curled in a tight ball under a pile of dirty laundry. Home the whole time.
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