Kreative Kue 342

Kreative Kue 341 asked for submissions based on this photograph:


John W Howell is a multiple nominated and award-winning author who blogs at Fiction Favorites. Details of John’s books can be found on his Amazon author page

This Train by John W. Howell © 2022

“Wouldja look at that.”


“That video. Almost looks real.”

“That’s cause it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re looking out a window. Everything beyond the window is part of the world.”

“That might be true, but it doesn’t mean it’s real.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me we are going to get caught in a semantics loop?”

“I don’t even know what that is. All I’m saying is just because there is stuff beyond the window doesn’t mean that stuff is real. Look now. It all changed.”

“That’s because we are moving.”

“Moving? What kind of insanity is that?”

“I don’t want to break this to you too hard, but we are on a train.”

“Since when?”

“Last night, we boarded a train.”

“Where was I?”

“Oh my gosh. You were on the end of your leash. You got on the train. We all went to sleep, and here we are.”

“Look at that. It looks like a big city.”

“Yes, it is. We need to go through the city to get to the seashore.”

“Seashore? We going to the seashore?”

“We sure are.”

“Oh boy. I love the seashore.”

“I know you do. That’s why we are going.”


“To the sea— Hold on. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m just messing with you. I can’t wait until we get there.”

“We should be there tonight.”

“All those smells. The crabs and birds. The sand and sun.”

“You believe it is real then?”

“The seashore?”


“Of course. It’s just looking out this window that doesn’t look real.”

“Maybe you should take a nap then.”

“And miss something.”

“Something that may not be real.”

“Good point. A nap it is.”

“Good dog.”


My effort was:

Not a mere cat

Come camping with us, Trevor, they said. You’ll love it, they said. There’ll be lots of long walks, new smells, new places. You’ll probably meet some more dogs to sniff around or play with. You’ll really have the best time, they said.

That’s what they said, anyway. That’s how they sold it to me,

The reality? The blighters have gone out again and left me. We’re leaving you in charge, they said. Same as they always say. You’re a good little guard dog. You won’t let any bad people come in and steal our stuff will you. And don’t worry, we’ll bring you back a doggy-bag. If you’re really good, there might be some best steak in it.

And I wag my tail and slobber over them, not because it’s what I feel but because it’s what they expect. And it’s true, they’ll be back after two or three hours, and they’ll have a bag of leftovers with them. And they’ll fawn all over me as they give it to me because, of course, I won’t have let anyone in. Nothing will be missing, nothing broken and – not that I’m not tempted at times – nothing chewed. The place will be as clean and as tidy as when they left.

Admittedly, that’s in large part due to the fact that I spent most of their absence sleeping. Well, it’s about the only avenue open to me to stave off the interminable boredom, isn’t it? Oh yes, and the nagging feeling that always gets me, no matter how hard I try to suppress it, that they may never come back, and I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life.

I did some thinking once. What actually goes into these doggy-bags? Do you know what it is? No? Then I shall enlighten you, I shall add to your education, your knowledge of what’s what, your understanding of reality.

It’s stuff they don’t want!

That’s right. They go to these fancy places and stuff themselves full of all their favourite things. Anything they can’t eat or don’t like, they put in a bag and give to me. What does that say about how much they value me and what I do? And before you say anything, I’ll believe their protestations of love and respect and all the other BS they come out with when they do what they say they’ll do.

What am I talking about?

Where are the long walks, the new smells, the new places they promised? 

What they ask me to do doesn’t need an intelligent and active dog – it could be done by a mere cat!


Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at before 6pm on Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next time.

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