The shopping mall floor chills Emily’s scalp but she doesn’t care, she’s transfixed by the circle of faces above her.
Black eyes glitter, pointed ears relish the moans she cannot silence. Ever closer their narrow snouts loom, sniffing her distress with low rumbles of interest.
Flashing lights assail her eyes.
Her coat is ripped open, crossed hands pump rhythmically at her narrow chest.
Something flickers deep within; the onlookers fade away.
“Who were they?” she asks, dazed.
“Jackals,” the paramedic growls.
Turning to his colleague, he shakes his head.
“What kind of vermin, for chrissakes, takes selfies at a time like this?”
Another grim week around this world; it seems there’s no end to the despair that human nature can generate. This week’s submission for Friday Fictioneers was prompted by background scenes in the television coverage of these events.
On a lighter note however, I had the best birthday ever on Monday when I picked up my monthly copy of Writers’ Forum, (one of two best-selling magazines for writers in the UK), to find that I’d won the previous month’s competition for a 400 word story written entirely in dialogue. If you’d like to read it click here: The Chill Factor
Thanks once again to Rochelle for her unwavering service to our little community, and for the support and encouragement she dispenses.