Flash Fiction (Number 4)


The first time that I heard it, I was relieved. The isolation had begun to get to me, as I had been the sole occupant of the tree top research post for nearly eighteen months, and there hadn’t been any visitors for ten months.

The trees swayed once again, the trunks straining against the wrinkled grey hide as the elephant pushed it’s way through into the clearing. A coffee skinned man sat astride, just behind it’s ears, and grinned at me. They don’t pause, the huge animal disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

The next day I’m ready, my ancient camera dangling from around my neck, waiting on the balcony. It appeared, as if on cue, dead on four o’clock, just like on the previous four days. I’m determined to get a photo, aiming the camera and taking the shot just as the pair reached the watering hole.

Later, when I start to develop the photo, I’m surprised to see just what the camera’s recorded. Somehow the elephant’s rider is transparent, I can see only just the outline of someone sitting atop the grey bulk.

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