Sylwin Stirs

“Roomie, have you taken out the trash yet?”

“You are obviously standing in the kitchen so you know I haven’t, I’ll do it soon. I’M WRITING HERE!”
A roll of the eyes and a slam of the back door and he knew she was gone.

Sylwin woke to the buzzing of a horsefly around his shaggy head. With one eye open he waited until it landed on his nose and snared it with a big pink tongue. It made a satisfying crunch and silence settled around him once more. He slowly stood and stretched, his paws sinking into the moss. Smells of humus and evergreens filled his nostrils, much the same as all these northern coastal islands he’d explored. He’d been swimming from one to the next, wondering if any more of his kind were left from the old world.
View this story's 4 comments.