Flash Fiction #237 – The Gardens

Flash Fiction #237 – The Gardens

“Don’t listen to him. We’d love a garden,” Hattie insisted, glaring at her husband as the old lady hobbled away.
​

“The neighborhood is famous for her gardens. Why’d you say no?”
​

“She gives me the creeps,” sounded stupid, so he said nothing.
​

The garden was nearly complete when the Pitbull next door escaped and did some digging of its own.

​

Now neighbors congregate by police cruisers, gawking at the deep pits in their yards. “A body here too,” investigators keep saying as they dig up Mrs. Pembleton’s gardens.

​