The dog lurked inside and slaughtered our other relatives. I
swore something ryming rhyming with 'Shuck'. We were scared. He was
about to eat us. Black Shuck. The Doom Dog. The Baskerville. What could save
us? I didn't want to go to Hell right now. Or purgatory, for that matter. And
then I thought a of a brilliant plan. I picked up a mirror and shone it
in Black Shuck's face.
© 2009 Peter Webb
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