Published June 22, 2009
It lay there on the edge of the yard in a feathered heap. Feet twitching violently, it tried in vain to move the rest of its body. A sad, desperate cry issued from its twisted throat, and I could feel the threads in my heart tangle together. I looked over to my grandma, who just shook her head and went back to reading her latest novel. Granddad had already left to go get the shovel and bucket. I felt another pang of sympathy for the poor thing.
The goose had come from our neighbor, Mr. Johnson’s pond. I recognized it because of its distinct white-speckled bill, and I wondered if Johnson would be mad. When Bowser, a mean Rottweiler from a few houses down, came trotting into our yard with a bloody bird hanging from its jaws, I knew that it had finally gotten past Johnson’s barbed wire fence and to the family of geese. Grandma had shooed him off, but the dog left his trophy right by the driveway.
Another strangled honk. I shuddered. All the same—I couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of curiosity and walked over to where the body lay. Its neck was snapped right in half, and one wing had been reduced to a bloody stump. It was a wonder how the bird could even move with its neck like that. I leaned in closer to see the gaping wound in its chest—Bowser had nearly disemboweled the creature, and guts spewed from its belly. With morbid fascination I watched its webbed feet thrash desperately in a hopeless attempt to get away.
I leaned in closer. Suddenly, its head spun around and it let out a loud quack right in my face. I screamed and jumped back. His head hit the ground with a thump and lay there once more. After a small shudder, I went back over to the porch away from the dying goose. My granddad had reached the bird, bucket in hand and gleaming shovel in the other. I turned away just in time to hear the sickening ‘shwick’ as the shovel swung down on the creature’s neck.
Dumping the goose into the bucket, head and all, Granddad hauled it off behind the house where I figured he would throw the body into the woods. I shuddered again, and went inside to escape the heat.
*****
“Wow. This is great!” I exclaimed, hungrily slurping down more soup. I had been outside swimming and hadn’t realized how empty my stomach was. When my grandma called me in for supper, I jumped right out of the pool and ran back down to the house to get washed up quick.
“Thank ya, hon. I knew y’all would like it,” Grandma replied, winking. “Let me know when you want s’more!”
A moment later, the contents of my bowl were gone, and only remnants of assorted vegetables remained. I held up the soup bowl and grinned sheepishly. “More please?”
Both my grandparents laughed. My grandma took the bowl from me and got up from the table to refill it. As she stood over the stove, pouring more of the delicious soup into my bowl from a big metal pot, I asked, “Grandma, how in the world did you make this so good?” I laughed, “What’s in this?”
“Goose.”
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140,925 Literary Works • 673,749 Reviews
Pop- Geese honk or hiss. ^_^
LoL That must have been one veeeery funny look on your face. xD
Thanks for reading this, everyone.
Rosey - lol, I definitely agree with you on the predictability of this. Written down, it's really obvious; I wish it had been so obvious the other day! XD
June - I think geese quack? I dunno. I couldn't think of another word to describe the noise. XD
And I put this in fiction because no one ever reads non-fiction.
It's crazy how different everything is when you're in nowhere, Mississippi.
Okay, I have to admit, there is something mildly sadistic in this story Anti.
Setting I’m not really sure where we are. At some points in the story, the setting doesn’t seem right. The way it sounds in some parts of the story, this is in the country but at other parts, it seems like they are in a rural neighborhood with neighbors and driveways. Where are we?
Irony in the Plot All I’m going to say is that this is so cute as far as story ideas go. I mean, obviously this has a sense of fairy tale and folk lore in it. But at the same time, I think that it’s just too predictable, in part to your title.
Title Which is what I meant up above? The story title gave it away for me. As soon as the little line breaks showed up, with the title in mind, I knew what was going to happen. Anti-Climactic.
Tone At the beginning, I like the tone. It's dark and haunting. I mean, you bring in this death and this sense of discust but then all the sudden, those elements are lost in the second half. Try to keep the tone the same throughout.
But overall, this was put together well and written in a very stylized fairy tale way and I can’t deny that it wasn’t a good story and a cute read.
~lilymoore
Hey Poppity! June here!
Nitpicks first! =D
Do Geese quack?
I don't think the ending of this sentence suits it well; perhaps if it were "lay still" or something else?
End of nitpicks.
This is a true story? (Then, why is it in fiction, silly?
You used the perfect amount of description here-- not too much, and not too little. I don't really have much to say on this, Meg. Well done on the whole thing; very brilliant flash fiction.
Best--
juniper
Aha! This was very cute and amusing. I enjoyed it a lot. While I do agree it was predictable, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and I don't have anything to nitpick from this. I think what I enjoyed most was the prose you used to describe the dying goose; it created a very vivid image of its suffering and I could clearly picture it laying there and what was going on.
The only bad thing I have to say is that I was disappointed because I clicked the thread title expecting a discussion about real soup. xD; All in all, though, this was an entertaining read.
Hiya Pop!
Nice work with the prose. I only have a nit-pick or two.
Before, you had called the goose "it," not he/she.
"Remnants" and "remained" are pretty close in sound. I mixed them up first time I read this.
*
So, when it comes to nit-picks, this was good.
However, I found the plot a bit predictable. Don't get me wrong, it was a cute little read, but as soon as I read about soup I had the ending guessed. Made things a little less punchy. It also doesn't help I had scrolled too far and read the last line...
I also found there could have been a tinny bit more about the attraction to the goose. You do a pretty good job digging up sympathy, but there is room for a touch more while you still see the thing with feathers.
A cute flash, just morbid enough to make our hearts twist at the last line, but there's some wiggle-room for improvement. ^_^
Questions? PM me.
~Rosey
Hey there.
This was good. Not that much to review. I thought that the last couple of lines of dialogue was a little forced, but then, I guess that it fits the feel of telling a story.
But your description was spot on, the pace was good. I liked how you cut, rather than drag on describing the rest of the afternoon or the cooking process.
Excellent work! And sorry that its a true story, i guess
I LOVE this piece. Great work here! Only people from the south will take a neighbor's dead pet and eat it! It so sad and, however morbid, so funny. I really liked your description of both the feeling of the character and how the goose looked. I couldn't find any mistakes with your grammar or spelling, so good job on that as well.