Her locks didn’t work.

That was what she hated most. Not the dripping bathroom faucet, the fridge that kept her food cold every other Thursday, the heat that warmed her only on full moons in August. It was the doors that didn’t lock.

She thought about this, a familiar unsettling feeling creeping into the crevices of her mind and sticking there like spilled honey left on the countertop.

“John,” she reached out, “who’s my little Locke? Who’s the smartest, bravest pound puppy in the world?” She kissed his nose.

The intruder, outside her window, saw the Doberman and left.



June 10 Prompt: Animal Rescue (In 99 words – no more, no less – write a story about an animal rescue)

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch