The guys named him Black Hawk. He was shaky today. I could feel his insecurity.

He needed some love; that, and the reassurance that this isn’t good-bye. I couldn’t blame him.

There was cheering and shouting everywhere. We were going home.

One night when he crept into the barracks, he was muddy. His body was nothing but bones and mange.

After a lot of pleading, Sarg let us keep him.

“He won’t survive, he said. He’s a dog. A dogs gonna do what a dog does. Run out. Some random shots will get him.”

I wasn’t going to let that happen. I talked to Black Hawk. He listened. He helped keep the moral alive for us guys.

“Hey, little buddy, don’t look so sad. It’s a great day for all of us. We’re going home, I told him.”

I think he understood.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 143

 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

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