For A Laugh

Tina sat in the back of a taxi on her phone. She looked up, and her breath caught.

No longer was she staring at the glass partition; instead a bear stared down at her, its black eyes boring into her.

She screamed and threw her phone. It bounced off its head.

It roared, its canines glistening. “Stop!” The bear growled. It shook her, its claws digging into her.

Tina freed her pepper spray and emptied it in the bear’s eyes.

“The hell?” The cabbie screamed, falling to the ground, grabbing his face.

A twisted laugh carried faintly on the wind.

From Guest Contributor Madison Randolph

Madison is a reader by day and a writer by night. Her works have appeared in Friday Flash Fiction, The Drabble, Bright Flash Literary Review, Spillwords, The Chamber Magazine, A Story in 100 Words, Free Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday as well as 101 Words under the name Ryker Hayes. She resides in Oklahoma with her family and dog Belle where she spends her time sharpening her writing skills and drinking large amounts of coffee. Her works can be found here. She can be found on Instagram @madisonrandolph17

The Dog Days

These are the dog days our grandparents warned us about. So it is that the canines now rule the streets. They rollick and bark and go alpha male on anyone they see.

With everybody locked inside their homes, the neighborhood is mostly empty. The occasional bark fills the air, but the packs stay hidden after dark. It's during the daylight when they roam free.

The people who have been good to the dogs will get a free pass. The dogs piss on their front porch so the others know this family should be spared.

Most will not be so lucky.