Gossip Channels at the Sahara Desert

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Flash Fiction

The image is from Getty Images on Unsplash.

Stefan and Holly hadn’t left the community pond in two weeks. Their last outing found them chasing away a cackle of hyenas who were trying to attack the neighboring zebras. Stefan was no longer in his prime. At 37 years old, his body weight amassed to 6,200 lbs. Holly was his confidant – his forever feathered friend. She would fly to his nook of the pond every day, and the two of them would gossip about the goings-on of the Sahara.

Jeffery the Jackal was cheating on his wife Johnna. Callan the Cape Hare had been evicted by the burrow’s landlord. Murphy the Mongoose lost a finger to Alfred the Alligator (by accident) the night before last. And Cheyenne the Cheetah was in heat.

“Have you heard about Cheyenne, Holly?”

“No, what’s that old bitty up to now, Stefan?”

“Word about the Sahara is she’s in heat.”

“You don’t say!!! Will Clyde and Clifton be on the lookout then for her, you think?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of those two since the last desert rainstorm.”

“My word! I hope she doesn’t come prancing over here with that scent of hers. We’ve got enough problems on this side of the pond. You heard about Jeffery, right?”

“The Jackal or the Giraffe?”

“The Jackal. Berta the Barbary Sheep caught him stepping out on Johnna.”

Stefan gasped, and a pent-up ball of air escaped his wide and viciously tooth-filled mouth.

“You don’t say! Didn’t they just have a whole new litter of little ones?!”

“They sure did! Four of the little pups, if I’m not mistaken. The nerve of that over-aged pimp! She needs to leave him!”

“I doubt she will, though. Two of the older children came back home to help out. Jeffery is the breadwinner – Johnna’s stuck. He’s got her right where he wants her, and that ain’t no place I’d wanna see any of my friends.” Stefan sighs discontentedly as he says this.

The Saharan sun bows its reddened glow and hovers over Stefan and Holly before closing its eyes. Pitch black is the night sky as the two wander gingerly back to the base of the pond. A day of gossiping, galloping, and gloating has met its end.

“Same time, same place, tomorrow, Stefan?”

“I’ll be right here, Holly.”

This flash fiction piece is in response to Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. This was my first go at it, and I truly enjoyed writing this story. Perhaps you’d like to try your hand at this challenge, too?

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