Monday 21 April 2014

Year of the Dog



Seventy seven.

It took a moment for him to release that his cycle of falling then dying had stopped.

Eventually he lifted his head. He now found himself in a long corridor. The walls were that special type of green you only saw in the schools of his youth.

He had hated school.

Just as he began to look for a door, he heard a growl. Upon turning, he came face to face with a massive dog.

He began to run. For a year, he’d run, get caught, get eaten, then wake up and have to run again.

Seventy eight.

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