Jo Bradshaw
8th July 2016 — By JoBradshaw

A story about a horse that goes to a homeopathic vet.

Often, on Fridays, those lively folk at Faber Academy run a flash fiction competition. It’s really fun and if you win they send you book prizes. It also gets you writing. Today I hopped over to Twitter (I was supposed to be doing something else. Aren’t we all?) and alas there was no #QuickFic. Just […]

Often, on Fridays, those lively folk at Faber Academy run a flash fiction competition. It’s really fun and if you win they send you book prizes. It also gets you writing. Today I hopped over to Twitter (I was supposed to be doing something else. Aren’t we all?) and alas there was no #QuickFic. Just a forlorn request for perhaps a story about a horse that goes to a homeopathic vet. Well why not?

I paid the bill once we’d buried her

Laid couch-grassy mounds over sleek-no-more haunch
That was once the bezier curve to my heart
Her warm breath seized in her chest
I almost cut her tail for hair – take it to a bowmaker
Play a funeral march on a bad violin
But I couldn’t
Nux Vomica
Arsenicum
Fuckitupum
Aconite
I didn’t touch the pellets
I tweezered them onto her lizard tongue and they hung sugar burrs
I paid the bill once we’d buried her
What’s this said the vet and I said
It’s perfectly correct
It’s a thousandth that’s all
Homeopathic money.
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(You can read some of my QuickFics here and here.)