Desert Tale in 300 Words

Her Desert Portrait

“Come on boy. Come girl. Breakfast is up.”

From sunup to sundown, they remained her constant. A half day’s walk outside of town on a desert plateau, they’d greet each morning. After morning chores, they would follow her into town and back out again. She drove her truck and they kept pace beside her. Back on the expanse and always after their sunset meal, they would join her in the bathhouse. A daily soak was required for her ailments- mostly a phantom ache where her left leg used to hang. When the bath turned tepid, she would climb into bed and braid her silvery strands. They laid at the foot until she fell asleep. When she is feeling up for it, they would follow her from man to man and bar to bar. And while she was with company, they would lie in the shadows and wait. The men were somewhat hesitant with an audience and a half a leg missing, but never unwilling in those parts. At the bars she sang Patsy Cline songs sitting on the piano. They knew her set by heart. Finally she would whisper into her microphone “Just hopin’ you may be somewhere a-walkin’ After midnight, searchin’ for me…” The wolves started to silently pace.