Happy Dance.

I’m sharing another of my tiny fictions; this one is 196 words–a two-minute read. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy writing, and see you next week,


Happy Dance

Chirpy little happy dance, turning circles one direction, round again. Can’t believe his luck, this funny chap, stumbling onto a meal ticket that will have him set for a week or more. He can finally prove himself to his family, or not perhaps; they’ve all moved on to god knows where. No matter—he has Chubs, although this best friend of his doesn’t even speak his dialect and he’s been AWOL for days.

He stops and checks in with himself and he knows he’s not quite ready. It’s mammoth, Herculean, gargantuan. Bigger even. How do they say that saying? You know the one. That saying about eating an elephant. I can do this, he nods to himself, and he steels his stomach for the task. He warms eager hands together and drops his jaw.

When his friend finds him, he is long gone. Chubs shakes from joggle head to gangled legs: he warned him more than once about the bright lights and flashy colours, about going for the easy meal, but Igor wasn’t the clueyest. Eight skinny legs are up in the air next to the dead orange beetle with a bite taken out of it.


[Feature image by İbrahim Hakkı Uçman from Pexels. Yes, it’s a weird picture to pair with this post — but it is an orange beetle.]

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