Friday, February 22, 2013

Free-Range Furniture


Not a day went by Benjamin didn’t question the wisdom of opening a restaurant on the frontier. In a place without paved streets or indoor plumbing, his establishment was an oddity the locals neither quite understood nor seemed willing to patronize.

Most challenging had been the simple task of furnishing his business. The general store carried the necessities of survival and sundries but certainly not tables and such.

Thus, Benjamin found himself on a cold fall morning engaged in what he was beginning to believe was some version of a snipe hunt. The old trapper had assured him if chairs were what he needed, then he would just have to go out and wrangle himself some wild ones. 

The young man was cursing his naivetĂ© for having believed in something as ridiculous as “free-range furniture” when he heard a low rumbling sound from the west and felt the ground tremble beneath his feet.

They came thundering out of the mist and Benjamin was struck by the wild majesty of them. Instinctively, he knew they’d look perfect in the dining room and he swore, no matter what it took, to not return to town without as many as he could handle.


This story was written for the weekly Flash Friday flash fiction photo prompt.

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