They didn’t bother staying around for his funeral.
‘The old man fucked us over. Dissolved all his assets and hid his money. Claims he spent it all on his tombstone. A crappy tombstone with an obnoxious dog guarding it! We are done with him.’
Their departure did not surprise Mr. Thomson. Only their arrival had.
Neither of his older sons had ever visited Mr. Mulligan during his eight years in the assisted living facility, nor had Mr. Mulligan ever spoken of them. His youngest, Sam, had been his sole visitor, until he was deputed to Jordan a few months back.
For the last week they had circled their father like vultures, demanding he tell them where the money was.
But good old Mr. Mulligan kept his secret until the very end.
It was a month before Sam received the letter from his father.
My dear Sam. I’m sorry I could not be a better father to you after your mother left us. She was my anchor, and without her I was adrift. I’m sorry that I could not protect you from your brothers. But I will not fail you in death. Until your return, my dog guards your fortune within.
Photo credit: Susan Spaulding
In response to the Sunday Photo Fiction – May 27, 2018 challenge.