FLASH FICTION:They watch as she mumbles her regret, red-faced and awkward, choking on every word. Silence greets her hard-wrung apology

PUDDLES HUDDLE on the stones around the bottom of the water butt; reminders of a vengeful act gone wrong. The recrimination jackknifes through the open window: “Did you see what your daughter did to my mother’s dog?” The dry rustle of someone retreating behind a newspaper.

“Why would I be interested in that thing?” She sulks damply in a corner, listening as the argument grinds on, turning cold in the midday sun. Waiting to be dealt with always takes forever, especially when you’re six years old. She hadn’t thought it through properly, didn’t mean to do any real harm, just wanted to teach a lesson after a summer of torment; a string of furtive attacks, well timed to avoid adult censure. There aren’t many ways of getting your own back at that age and, innocently, she had assumed that most things float.

The splashing and yelping brought them running from the house. She watched as the sodden victim was carried indoors on a tide of shrieks and blame. No one wanted to hear that it wasn’t all her fault.

Provocation doesn’t count as an excuse when you’re a kid, apparently.

Now she waits as the minutes creep past, feeling the unfairness of everything.

As the last puddle dries, the victim, now the victor, is borne outside ceremoniously so that she can offer her obeisance and apologies. They watch as she mumbles her regret, red-faced and awkward, choking on every word.

Silence greets her hard-wrung apology. Damp blonde curls glint as the long-nosed gaze meets her own. Black eyes glint coldly from the swathes of pink towel, safe in mother’s arms now. The girl shrinks into herself, knowing that this day will be long-remembered. There will be plenty of time to chew it over during many future afternoon visits. She shivers. Suky the poodle lives to bite another day.

Send your Flash Fiction stories, of no more than 500 words, to flashfiction@irishtimes.com