Fingernails and Fatherhood

Flash Fiction

Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash

Wyatt Newcomb begins every Sunday in the same manner. He brews a cup of coffee, grabs his sci-fi or fantasy paperback, and heads outside to sit on the deck, nail clippers in his pocket. Many people follow different Sunday morning rituals, but this is Wyatt’s. It has been for nearly seven years.

On one particular Sunday, before clipping his left pinky nail—he always works left to right, like reading a line in a story—he pauses. An unexpected memory of his father coalesces and comes to life.

Wyatt is at his bedside, combing his thick head of hair and clipping his fingernails.

He hears his mother’s voice and sees her tearful smile: “I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t send him on his way looking like that.”

Wyatt grips his coffee mug to bring himself back to the present. Despite its warmth, he can’t help but remember how cold his father’s hands were the final time he held them.

A cardinal flies to the birdfeeder near the tree line. It lands and lingers a while, poking at the feeder. It sways ever so slightly from side to side.

There’s a commotion from inside the house. The back door slides open, and Jess steps outside with their three-month-old son, Gabriel. The cardinal flies away.

“He scratched the hell out of me,” she says, handing him off to her husband and covering herself up, wincing all the while. “Do you mind clipping his nails?”

Gabriel, milk-drunk, leans into Wyatt—a lazy little smile forming.

Wyatt suppresses a laugh. “Not a problem, my love.”

Jess kisses Gabriel—Wyatt, too—and heads back inside for some well-deserved rest.

Wyatt leans Gabriel back against his chest and begins to clip his left pinky nail.

“My God, how’d these get so sharp?” Wyatt whispers, moving on to the ring finger. “They’re like claws.” He works his way carefully to the thumb.

And how in the world are you sitting so still? Wyatt wonders.

But then he sees it: the cardinal has returned. Gabriel is transfixed on the beautiful bird—the tree limbs waving in the slight breeze.

The father and son take it all in together.

Thank you for reading “Fingernails and Fatherhood” today. I hope you enjoyed my story. If so, please click the heart icon or share it with a fellow reader.

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Prompt: Write a fifty-word story (fiction, CNF, or poetry) about a seasoned storyteller.

Happy writing, my friends.

“The Seasoned Storyteller” by John Lightle

Thank you, as always, to

John Lightle

for providing the photos for our writing exercises.