#14 What He Smelled Was Death



Frank limped through the forest. The sounds of pursuit faded, but they’d be back.

He sat down against a tree and tore off part of his shirt to stop the bleeding hole in his chest.

Crackling leaves froze his heart in his chest. But it was only a stray mutt.

“You scared me,” Frank said.

He dug with his hands while the mutt sat and watched with his head half-cocked. He buried the package. If he couldn’t have it, neither could they.

“You won’t tell them where, will you?” Frank asked the dog.

Then he crawled with the energy he had left. When he could crawl no more, he merely waited.

The mutt, who had been called Charlie before he had been abandoned, lay down next to the man. He smelled something he’d never smelled before, though he knew it was bad.

What he smelled was death.

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2 Responses to “#14 What He Smelled Was Death”

  1. a12yeartoast January 25, 2010 at 1:10 pm #

    I want to know more about this one.

  2. R Canepa January 25, 2010 at 11:39 pm #

    Going into the project, I considered that I might try to tie stories together to tell a longer arc in small single-servings. I’ve meant to ask (and likely still will) if anyone had stories they might want to know more about.

    If I can write more on this one, I will. Thanks for the comment.