Pride Month Flash Fiction Post #2

Here is my post for June 2, 2025 for TBC Publishing Pride Month Flash Fiction Challenge.

Title: Conflicted

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Author: R. Scott Tyler

Word Count (maximum of 500 words): 495

Zipper cracked open his eyes, took in the view through the dirty window, and squeezed them back shut. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they would be out there.

Gunny confirmed it, “rrrRowf.”

He lifted the covers, revealing two dirty legs, but a warm blanket cave that would probably entice Gunny into another hour of sleep. Sure enough, the big dog came up to look under the covers, skillfully crept in, and snuggled up between Zipper’s legs. Unfortunately, the effort forced out some significant gas that had been building in Gunny’s guts as he was sleeping on the floor.

“Damn Gunny, what the hell did you eat last night?” Zipper asked.

Gunny just looked at Zipper; he figured that by now the boy should know that Gunny only ate what Zipper gave him.

Capulong thought about their current situation. It wasn’t bad, but a lot of that was thanks to their new companion, Zipper. He knew the lay of the land and the people here. The odd thing was that he seemed to understand them almost implicitly. That hadn’t happened in a long time, not since Dr. Thompson spent so much time with them. It didn’t make them comfortable, but it made their communication with him clearer and required fewer games. It made life a little easier. This group was hard enough to organize on their own, so Capulong was happy to have the help. That said, they would never let their guard down completely with anyone again.

“Quit dreaming, that isn’t going to happen,” Enzo gruffly said, obviously still against the farm plan.

Capulong dug into the bowl of bread dough they were mixing and slammed it out on the not-altogether clean kitchen counter. They started kneading it ferociously, slamming it down harder with every turn.

“You don’t have the final say in everything,” they replied.

“Cappy, you know I do,” Enzo said more gently, even as Capulong could almost feel the swat on the back of their head Enzo might give them when they thought they were acting childishly.

“Now do what you’re best at and get that bread in the oven. I’m starving. Do you want me to get the oven going?” Enzo asked.

“No, I can do it,” Capulong replied, turning and going through the door to the covered cooking porch. They could almost feel their eyes following them. Sometimes they got so tired of what they called their leadership style, but they knew they would not have survived without it. Enzo was always the one to make the final decision, and Enzo always seemed confident with what they decided.

Capulong was beginning to understand how Neddie had gotten such a great deal on the little ranch. On paper, it came with groves of mangos, bananas, coconuts, and pineapples, three buildings, a jeep, and a tractor. In reality, it came with overgrown orchards, unrepaired equipment, and buildings, which from the outset disabused her of any thought of a lucky purchase.

To read this and other author posts go here.