This was written for Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge. Thanks, Charli!
Some Things Are Not Chiseled in Stone (99 words)
Conversations weren’t easy with Dad after Mom left. What he said, went. Case closed.
The case for my art didn’t close, not for me. I spent hours at Megan’s in her father’s workshop chiseling aspen, Foo Fighters pounding through my head. When I qualified for the art competition, I lied to Dad about where I’d be and forged his name on the permission slip.
At the show, Dad stood by my carving of our dog, Dali. My stomach dropped.
“I’m not a monster,” he said. “You lied.”
His finger drifted across the first-place ribbon. “We should talk.”