Flash Fiction by David

A Dangerous Man

A terrapin slowly makes its way through white clover at sunrise.

I found a terrapin this morning. He stood motionless in the garden shade, peeking over the white clover.

I walked away.

In the afternoon, I looked for him but he was gone.

There was a quick trip to the grocery store at supper time. Coming back, driving into the sun, pulling into the driveway, I felt and heard a crunch.

Looking in the rearview, I found him again: the terrapin, mortally flattened.

I buried him just now–near his garden spot, in the blooming clover. A plump toad came to eulogize him. “Hop away, my friend. I am a dangerous man.”

A grave, encircled by flowers, with a small terrapin figurine in the middle.