I am attempting to learn the art of brevity. To tell a simple story in a few short lines and still entertain and move things along seems to be a useful skill .
He was playing some kind of flute. A tin whistle I think it was. It was distinctly odd. A child sitting in the forest playing music.
He said it was none of my business. I found my lost dog asleep at his feet. She was curled up.
I asked him where he had come from. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. I looked. There was a village in the distance.
Quaint! All thatched and tumble-down. It didn’t feel quite real. Like a film set when the actors had left for the day.
The boy was odd too. Strange clothes and an otherworldly air. He asked if he could keep the dog because he liked her. I said no. He smiled .
I walked away and called Sally. She came running after me all wag and bounce. We went home.
She was in the garden and then she wasn’t. I never did find her. But I distinctly remember. I could clearly hear the fading notes of a penny whistle.
I do hope I meet the boy with the whistle again. After all. He has my dog!
Betty's Note. I have always loved the idea that there may be other worlds beyond our own. Just out of reach-but maybe you can catch a glimpse of them now and again.