Going To The Dogs

Time for ‘Sunday Photo Fiction‘ hosted by Alistair. A 100 – 200 word piece of short fiction based around the weekly photo prompt provided. Get yourself over to the linky and read the others and have a go yourself.


The hair on the back of her neck started to prickle and a rancid smell of week old sweat hit her nose. She gagged, swallowing down the bile that was threatening escape.

“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree” Brian growled.

“No, he’s here, I can smell him” twitching her nose in distaste, she tried to separate the stench of Brian from their prey.

Brian kicked a leg out at the discarded take- away wrappers. He was badly in need of some sleep and a bath. He bit down on a piece of cheap meat and spit out a gob that landed just by her foot. He stilled, she twisted. She walked forward, the glare of moonlight casting a demonic sheen across her face.

Suddenly a soul piercing howl filled the silence behind them. Both turned, ears raised, teeth bared.

“Son of a bitch” she shouted, as all four feet hit the ground running.

As head of ‘Pack’  security it was her responsibility to protect the council, but that yappy mongrel was going to blow a thousand years of duplicity.

From his bedroom window, six year old Ben wiped his eyes. He must be dreaming, he was sure he just saw Granny Irene cock her leg and pee against a tree.

11 thoughts on “Going To The Dogs

  1. Hints that didn’t seem like hints, hints that did seem like hints. Aaah, wonderful take on the prompt Helen. Poor Brian, he could be scarred for life 🙂

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