Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

This is a fictional short story, in 415 words.

It was still cold and wet, and he shivered as he squeezed into the side of the wall for protection from some of the north wind. There was puddle-water to drink at least, but no food in the metal bowl that he had licked to a shiny clean. The feeling in his stomach was more of an ache than a pain, and the last meal was just a memory.

But there was pain around his neck. Pain where the tight, rusty chain had worn away the skin as he struggled to get free of it. That hadn’t worked, but even if it had, there was the high fence and locked gate to deal with. It had been light and dark many times since he had last seen anyone in the yard. How long that was was a mystery, but his stomach…