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I hold my breath and wait to see if the training worked or if my dog will bark at the shadow under the door. He starts to growl and my heart breaks. “You agreed,” whispers the group leader, handing me the machete. He’s anxious. we might only have seconds before the noise alerts the horde outside. I take the blade with trembling hands. “I’m sorry,” I say, and swing it as quickly as I can. The slash cuts the rope restraining my dog. I grab the free end and we bolt for the back together as chaos breaks out. I know we might die out there. Maybe it’s madness to give up the protection of a group for a frightened mutt I picked up on street the last month. But he wouldn’t abandon me, and when all the world has gone to madness, you may as well choose the madness you love.
Short story written by Peter Chiykowski
website twitter facebook instagramStory prompt taken from a photo by George Lebu
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