“Mommy! It’s Arthur!” Joe pointed out the sliding glass door at our above-ground pool, still covered in its winter tarp.
“Honey, it can’t be.” The canvas billowed up over the pool — and the fiberglass side shuddered.
Wind, I decided. Last fall I’d told Joe fish grow to fit their homes, so he’d “liberated” the mystery creature he’d won at the fair. I hadn’t the heart to inform him that fish can’t breathe pool chemicals.
The fiberglass rippled again, leaving a dent. A corner of the tarp lifted, revealing a stiletto-length tooth. A teacup saucer-sized eye gazed at Joe.
Day 11 of 31: 100-word Drabbles.
Like what you’re reading? Sign up for my newsletter, and you’ll get all 31 days as an e-book collection at the end of the year (plus other goodies month by month)!