This one is actually connected to my very first Flash Fiction Friday. I’m happy to share it with anyone who can’t see that post for whatever reason.
TRIGGER WARNING: Alcohol
For little Danny’s birthdays, the Hansen family always took a road trip to a park. They packed bags, coolers, and maps and always forgot something at home. People complain about long rides, but he always had something new to see and something say about it.
Maybe that’s when they realized their son had an annoyingly sharp memory. Daniel laughed to the dark room, swishing the bottle in a circle.
He learned to play catch with his dad, his mother taught him how to whistle through a blade of grass. They broke out the sandwiches and guessed what the clouds were and everything felt so real and fake at once. His ninth birthday would be the last.
There would be no videos or pictures. It wasn’t allowed. He couldn’t remember the name of the park, and even with the maps, he couldn’t find it before they found him.
His parents had no graves. If they did, it was the park he’d never see again.
[Copyrighted © June 05 2015, J.M. Blute]