Deep in the hallow, a still form lay. The distinctive markings and musky odor told me I was dealing with my arch enemy – that pesky skunk who kept stealing my prize-winning tomatoes.
It was time he paid for his thieving ways.
I crept forward, shovel in hand and mask firmly in place. The black garbage bags covering my clothes rustled with each movement, but I was a man on a mission.
Until he moved.
And a tiny striped head popped out.
He…was a she.
And a mother.
I slunk home, shovel unbloodied. Defeated.
Who needed a stupid blue ribbon anyway?
*Flash Fiction is fiction under a thousand words. I participate in a weekly prompt that's limited to a mere one hundred words. That's crazy short. You can check out the other participants' stories via their links on the WonHundred Word Wednesdays Facebook page here.*