Horror and Thriller Flash Fiction posted October 28, 2011

This work has reached the exceptional level
A dog alone...


by Realist101

Old Dog traveled silently through the trees, the soft snuffling of his nose the only thing that gave his presence away. He was a big cur; wily, smart and tough as nails. He stood tall as a small calf, with powerful shoulders and a wide head. Seven seasons old, he was in his prime and he took no guff from any living thing. He was a product of cruelty and had learned very young, just how to survive.

He froze in mid-stride. The big dog turned his head toward the stand of pines to his left. An odor he did not recognize wafted through the crisp air, and he growled soft and low. Every muscle readied. Every sense sharpened and he faced the trees. He would run from nothing.

A dark shape loomed from the shadows and it was twice the size of the dog. It too, growled a warning of the fight to come.

Dog seemed to grow taller. He bunched his haunches for the attack and flattened his ears in fury. His space would not be invaded. By anything.

The thing that emerged from the pines stank of wet leaves and moss. And it met Dog head-on, teeth gnashing like scissors; a demon from hell itself. Old Dog slammed into the beast, and met it fang for fang. The sounds of the battle were low, the growls accompanied with the slashing of flesh ... it was a duel to the death.

A blue-jay squawked in protest at the sudden intrusion to its peace and moved to higher branches. It had no quarrel with the creatures below. Leaves and debris from the forest floor flew up as the dog and demon tore at each other. Soon, silence returned and one stood tall.

The mighty Dog lay with mortal wounds, and he gazed up through the trees that had sheltered him for so long. There was no whimper as he lay dying; he accepted it. It was the way.

Spellbound, the blue-jay, though temporarily silenced, never blinked as he bore witness to the scene below. He flapped his wings with trepidation, but held firm his perch. Thirty feet down, the victor tore once more at his rival, blood dripping from the maw that had shredded the canine.

A red smell of death followed the creature--and it faded slowly into the gray mist of the piney woods, leaving no prints ... no sign. And the hillside shuddered, as Death howled once in victory.


Thank you for reading and reviewing this, and to Picasa for the loan of this very good art...Happy Halloween!!
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