The Ward

There was the flap of wings and then a thud on the bench beside him. “It’s been a while,” a voice said.

Viz shrugged. “Only a few centuries, brother.”

“Because you do your job poorly,” his brother snapped. “Speaking of which, where is your ward?”

He gestured towards the woman he’d been staring at. She was sitting at a ragged park table, crying. “There.”

His brother scoffed. “At least it’s alive this time. Do you know how annoying it was to wait—what was it again—a few centuries for it to reincarnate?”

A man approach his ward. She wiped her face and stood, mumbling an apology. The man embraced her. “It’s all right,” Viz heard him say. His ward went rigid. Then, sobbed on the man’s shoulder.

His brother groaned. “Well, that’s finally done.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

138 words


Written for: Priceless Joy’s FFfAW Challenge – 199th, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Picture by: Jodi McKinney

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