The Fury

It was cold. Freezing. I could see my breath, long puffs of smoke shooting out in front of my face. I shivered and looked back down at the ground where a little fluff of white fur had left a present in a small square of grass. Glad that Sonny had finally gone to the bathroom, I jiggled the leash and started back up the steps of our apartment building, hurrying to get inside where it was warm. The main door creaked as I opened it, Sonny’s tiny paws echoing down the corridor as she hobbled alongside me. Mold and mildew invaded my senses as we climbed the stairwell of the old building, all the way up to the third floor where my family lived. I hated it here. Hated everything about the place.

We’d made it to the third floor, when suddenly the puppy stopped moving, her body frozen at the very top of the steps. “Come on, Sonny,” I called, tugging gently on the leash. There was a loud click and the door to 3A opened.

I froze as a voice spoke in my direction, “What’s up, little girl?”

Though it was familiar, nothing about it was friendly. I looked at the man, a sliver of fear running down my spine. A sleazy smile lit up his weathered face and I could see in his eyes the fantasies that were playing in his head. He took a step, stopping directly in the frame of the doorway and my heart skipped a beat. If it came down to it, it was him against me and I didn’t stand a chance.

[this started out as an idea from a prompt, but it’s not going the direction I wanted, I already feel stuck and I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it, if anything at all, even. So right now I’m just leaving it as one of my prompts for inspiration]

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One thought on “The Fury

  1. I really like the imagery of the “long puffs of smoke shooting out.” It creates such a realistically dark atmosphere that had me hooked. As someone with a literary blog, I admire your style of writing. Kudos.

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