Every year I participate in Loren Eaton’s Advent Ghosts event. In short, he encourages people to continue the Victorian tradition of telling scary stories at Christmastime. Ideally each contributor is meant to write a drabble — a story that is exactly 100 words long. I’ve written plenty of drabbles but so far I have never managed to hit that goal for my Advent Ghosts story. However, this year’s tale is my shortest to date, so maybe someday I’ll pull it off. Someday…
After you read my story, pop over to Loren’s website where he’ll have links to all the other participant’s stories 🙂
And the Dog Smiled
“Listen buddy,” Carl raised his hands, palms facing the gun-wielding lunatic in the Santa costume. King’s leash dangled loosely from his wrist and, ears back and teeth bared, the dog was facing the stranger and growling low in his throat. Angry, but not pulling. “I don’t know anything about any Christmas gremlins. How about you put the gun down and we–”
“Enough,” Santa snarled, shifting his attention away from Carl and onto King.
Carl had seen enough movies to know what that meant and a white hot fury replaced the fear that filled him since he’d first seen the gun. “This is the part where you shoot my dog to show me what a badass you are, then?” he demanded. “I don’t think so, buddy–”
The sound of the gunshot echoed through the alley. A burst of red blossomed on the grey brick wall behind Carl’s head and he slumped, lifeless, into a pile of trash that had spilled out of a dumpster.
King fell silent.
“No, this is the part where I kill you to show him I mean business,” Santa said. He wiped a gloved hand through his unkempt beard and turned his attention to King. “Isn’t that right, ye shapeshiftin’ bastard?”