Helplessness: The Daily Post Challenge

The Daily Post Challenge  for today is Helplessness: that dull, sick feeling of not being the one at the reins. I’ve chosen to do a piece of flash fiction based on this prompt.


“Come on, Bella, move your butt. You need this walk more than I do.” Allie gently pushed the old dog’s front leg as she pulled on her coat and swung open the back door. “That’s it girl . . . once you get moving you’ll be fine.”

Never again, Allie thought, as she and Bella began their walk through the garden and out to the network of paths that surrounded the cabin nestled beside the lakeshore. The next time she and John looked for a dog, they would look a lot harder. Bella was a rescue dog. They had been told she was six-years-old when they picked her up. The paperwork said eight and the vet had said probably closer to ten. Bella was almost deaf, cataracts were slowly cutting off her vision, rotting teeth and bad hips rounded out the package.

The beginning stages of the walk were comically hard to watch, as Bella tipped this way and that trying to get her footing – she had recently had an inner ear problem that made her lose her balance on the uneven ground. But after she got going, the weaving and falling seemed to level off and the walk turned into an enjoyable forty-minute tramp along paths often surrounded by tall evergreens.  Bella would still try to frisk around now and then – running tight circles inside a large fern bush or scampering between the heather shrubs that poked up all over.

Coming down a hill and off a path through the trees, Allie had passed the cabin and just rounded a corner beyond the garden. She headed out on the path that ran along the lake shore in front of the cabin. Bella gambled past her and ran ahead on the trail.

What happened next happened faster than Allie could have ever imagined anything happening. She felt something brush against her leg as it streaked by her. A blur of golden movement – her mind registered the thought – cougar – at the moment that the cat overtook Bella in a sinuous leap that literally froze Allie’s breath. Bella had stopped and turned back to face Allie a fraction of an instant before the cougar thumped down on her. The dog’s high pitched yelp was cut-off only seconds after it began. The cat, still propelled forward by her leap, moved several more feet along the path before it stopped and turned back to stare at Allie – Bella’s head was firmly grasped in gaping jaws and her body hung limp down to the cat’s feet.

Allie began to back up, slowly, step by step, never breaking eye contact with the cat’s steady gaze. She reached the curve of the path that led to the cabin’s back door. When she could no longer see the cougar she turned and ran, fumbling with the doorknob, her panicked breath rattling and gasping from her body. The door swung open and with one wild stare back over her shoulder, Allie bolted into the cabin and slammed the door behind her. She turned quickly to look out the door’s window – nothing.

Allie sped through the cabin staring wildly out of every window – nothing, anywhere. Her legs began to tremble. She collapsed into the old rocker in the kitchen and replayed the last few minutes through her mind. A dull, sick feeling of helplessness washed over her. Had she abandoned Bella to a gruesome death? Could she have done anything?

Then out of nowhere, the reel playing over and over in her mind altered – she felt the cat brush against her leg as it passed her, she saw the blur of movement and the cat’s leap. But where Bella had stood, she now saw her four-year-old granddaughter, turning towards her with a huge smile on her face. Whenever Sophie visited, from the moment she could toddle along on her own, they walked those paths together. But this time, in Allie’s mind, the smile on Sophie’s face turned to a look of pure terror. The sound cut off was no longer a dog’s yelp but a child’s high-pitched shriek.

Allie’s mind clamped shut over the image of Sophie’s body hanging out of the cat’s mouth. She rocked slowly back and forth and whispered, over and over, a desperate litany of words – words that she knew made no sense, but words she knew she now meant with every fiber of her being. I can’t live here anymore. I can’t live here anymore.



This entry was posted in Writing.

2 comments on “Helplessness: The Daily Post Challenge

  1. Very moving, Francis. You had me hooked from the beginning. You certainly captured a shocking and stark picture of helplessness – especially the afterthought that it could have been a grandchild. Good work. Gayle Moore-Morrans

I would really love to hear what you think about this post . . .

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s