“C’mon, Blackie,” Iain said. “Let’s go home.”
The fluffy white dog looked at him questioningly.
“Ach, you know what I mean,” he said, reaching over to scratch Blackie’s ears. “Our home here.”
Neither one stood. They both leaned into the other, Iain finally burying his face in the dog’s ruff while he wept.
God, how he missed his home. He missed ducking his head under the low door-frame as he entered. He missed the smells of the kitchen: the soup simmering on the back of the stove, the bread in the oven.
He missed the clutter on the kitchen table: the to-do lists, the newspaper, the mail.
He missed the muddy boots and shoes in disarray by the door where they had been removed and kicked aside.
He missed the gardens, always half-weeded, never perfect.
The busy-ness of the city where he now kept a tidy apartment didn’t fill the emptiness.
The sounds of the water lapping at the boats, the view of the sun setting on the mountain didn’t fill the emptiness.
Blackie, the white dog — that name was his father’s sense of humor through and through — couldn’t fill the emptiness.
He wept into Blackie’s ruff until there were no more tears.
“Let’s go,” he said again, wiping his nose and face on his arm. This time he stood.
He walked in silence, Blackie beside him. She always understood.
“How much for two tickets,” he asked at the train station. “One for me, one for my dog.”
This is my response to this week’s Unicorn Challenge.
Such a simple challenge: no more than 250 words and base it on the photo prompt.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 
Sally, your flash fiction is incredibly moving. The way you capture the longing and nostalgia for a home, the details that make it real, and the deep connection between Iain and Blackie is simply beautiful. 🌟📖
~David
Thank you, David. You’re always so kind.
Be it ever so humble. Well written, Sally.
Oh Sally, the sadness of loss just oozes out of this one, and hooks the reader into the man’s pain.
The vibrant life that’s evidenced in the descriptions of the untidiness and clutter versus the emptiness of the tidy apartment he now keeps…
Blackie might not be able to fill the emptiness, but she goes some way to providing a link and a warmth to receive his tears.
A beautifully sad story.
Thank you so much, Jenne!
Superb depiction of the feeling of loss and/or homesickness that attacks many of us nomadic types from time to time.
Thank you for reminding me of Scotland!
I could never be a nomad. My roots are too deep. I remember hearing Dougie MacLean in concert talking about his homesickness that led to the writing of Caledonia. You Scots and your homesickness.
Laughing.
We leave because the weather is just so piggin’ awful, then miss it because it’s the best country in the world!
You made this scene so very real! I felt the longing for home!!!
Thank you! Now go buy a train ticket 🙂
You brought a tear to my eyes 💜💜
I will always take tears as a compliment. Thank you, Willow
And so you should 💜💜
“…Blackie beside him. She always understood.”
There’s an old adage about animals on stage, to the effect that they will always ‘steal the scene’.
Very effective story, the blending of setting with backstory, seamless.
Really enjoyed this.
This was lovely.
The longing for home certainly comes through strong…I hope he managed to get the tickets 💞💞💞