The Flying Elephant


The Flying Elephant (198 Words)

They say that elephants have a long memory. Daffy had the shortest memory I’ve ever seen.

When we found her as a baby, premature and weak, Ehan dedicated himself to that baby elephant’s care like no fairy I know. The hours he spent mixing gallons of nourishing drink from our secret ingredients, patting her with mud to make sure the flies didn’t bother her.

Daffy never seemed particularly grateful. She never seemed to notice Ehan except to brush him aside with her trunk or tail. The next time her herd passed, she was strong enough to follow them. I was happy for her, but I was more worried for my friend.

“Goodbye, Daffy,” he said. “Live long and be well.”

She swatted him aside with her little trunk. After a moment I glanced at him, at his tired, thinned face and almost listless wings.

“Well,” I said. “That’s done.”

We heard the baby elephant’s call and the joyous greeting of its mother. I could have sworn the baby was trying to talk. And hearing it, new life shone in Ehan’s eyes, a joy equal to their own.

I knew then that it really was done–and entirely worth it.


Written in response to Sunday Photo Fiction’s Photo Prompt. Also written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily PromptCheck it out!

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