A Categorical Thump

A categorical thump.

That is how Filip Bosko labeled the sound in his head. Snow had been melting and sliding off the roof since afternoon tea. Three inch thick tectonic plates of crystallized ice made quite the racket scraping against metal before thudding against the ground.

But they didn’t thump.

Filip’s sensitivity to noises had been heightened ever since Nessie, his loyal white German Shepherd, had passed away the summer prior. A dog bed caked with her hair still lay beside the wood stove. Such sounds normally would’ve been Nessie’s responsibility to investigate, but in the absence of his companion- Filip set down his pipe.

A sea of blinding white rushed to greet him as he stepped out onto the front porch. Seven acres of flat land had provided Filip the freedom and isolation that he had convinced himself he desired most. He moved toward the side railing as the ice crackled under his boot.

There, quite conspicuously, a dark hole in the snow.

With a gloved hand, Filip reached into the hole and felt something. Slowly, he lifted his hand out to reveal the body of a creature frozen solid. The tangle of wings and legs would not pry loose while dense black feathers shrouded everything else.

Without much thought, Filip brought the creature inside and laid it on Nessie’s bed beside the stove. He stirred the embers of the dying fire before returning to his chair.

It was time to get another dog, but he knew he couldn’t.