The dog noticed first. Spun upright in our bed.
“What is it, Calvin?” Alert ears. Rigid tail. Low growl.
I dropped my hand under the bedframe. Grabbed the twenty-two.
When the shadow appeared in the bedroom doorway, I fired once. A practiced shot.
He won’t be coming home late anymore.
John dabbles in flash fiction while editing his (hopefully) debut novel. Taste some of his stories at JohnDavisFrain.com.
Probably the best way to deal with it… LOL!
Ha! You got me. Guess guard dogs are good for more than one thing!
No gray area here! I could really see the whole scene.
It’s thrIlling — both the story and how good you are at this writing stuff.