It’s that time again. Flash Fiction time! Today, the little pupper below provides the inspiration for my writing. For more information about Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner and rules for entering, click here.
“…for the thousandth time, I promise you, it wasn’t me!”
The small canine glanced at me, a patient look in its eyes. Its black tail thumped against the wooden boardwalk. The sound reminded me of my own quickening heartbeat.
I could feel beads of sweat beginning to form on my brow.
“I didn’t drink from your bottle again, honest!”
Its stare was unflinching. The wet patches under my arms were getting bigger.
“A-alright, so I took the tiniest of swigs…just a sip! I mean, come on…it’s probably only put a few more years onto my life!”
“Jackson Smith, you’ve been alive for three hundred and sixty five years.”
A deafening voice echoed around me, making me fall to my knees. The black puppy gazed at me. Without moving its mouth it boomed one final message.
“Your time has come.”
The ground below me opened into a swirling vortex of brimstone and smoke. I began to scream as my body started to sink.
The tiny labrador turned and started to patter its way down the pier. Its little wagging tail was the last thing I saw before the whirling spiral engulfed my head.