October 2023 Flash Lit 5 - Happy Trails

 “And as for you,” she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen, whom she considered as the cause of all the mischief—but the Queen was no longer at her side—she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of a little doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and round after her own shawl, which was trailing behind her. Through the Looking Glass, chapter 9

 

 

 

Rosa was last.  She was always last.  She knew this was because she was the smallest, except for Tug, but Tug was a dog with twice as many legs, so of course he could go faster.

 

Rosa didn’t mind being last, actually.  She stopped when she felt like looking at the reddening leaves of the poison oak—she knew better than to touch it—or when a big black ant crossed the path carrying a crumb of something or when the sun beamed down through the canopy of leaves like some kind of magic spotlight.  She would never get lost, not with the path so plainly under her feet and the sound of the others up ahead.

 

Mama didn’t understand that.  She would stop at a bend in the path, her head turning forward to keep Bianca and Tug in view and then back to find Rosa in the shadows.  “Come on, Rosa!” she called.  “They’re getting away!”

 

Good, Rosa thought.  She loved Bianca and Tug, but they were both noisy and busy.  They went fast, chasing after balls or prizes or adventures or something.  Rosa wasn’t interested.  Besides, there was a little hole in the trunk of a tree that looked just like the kind of place a fairy would have a doorway.  Rosa brushed the moss on the bark with a finger and imagined herself small enough to go inside.

 

“Rosa!” Mama called again.  “Stop dillydallying!  And Bianca, slow down!”

 

“I’m not dillydalling,” Rosa said, but she did walk a little faster.  She didn’t want Mama to worry.

 

When Rosa caught up to the others, Bianca was perched on an obligingly arched tree limb eating a granola bar.  “Lichen is scratchy,” she said, with her mouth full, poking at the lemony green strands next to her.

 

“Yes, it is,” Mama agreed.

 

“Moss isn’t,” Rosa said.  “It’s soft, like Tug’s ears.”

 

Tug barked at the sound of his name.

 

“Let’s keep going,” Mama said.  “We’ll call for pizza when we get home.”

 

Happy, Rosa trailed behind all the way to the car.