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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1659686-Hell-Hounds
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by J.Rich Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1659686
Entry for Flicker of Madness
Hell Hounds (475 words)



March, 28 2010

My name is Alex, and I am the sole survivor of a group of ten people. We had been able to stay alive for thirteen days after the military accident that happened in Southern Illinois. I need to write this in case someday, if ever, a cure is found, and we will not be forgotten.

People on the Television called it the wrath of God; others said it was the hand of the Devil, but really it was us, the human race, that brought on our own extinction. We fooled around with genetics saying it was for our own good, but no one could see the damage that we were causing. It was not damage to us, but to nature. We twisted it and bent it in our hands acting like we were gods, and when we thought we had it under control; nature reached out and tore into us.

The experiments had been done on canines; maybe because there was an abundance of them, it made it easier for the scientist to get. They were able to create some kind of super dog, but it went terribly wrong and the dog was put down, but whatever they had done to it; it had somehow spread through the other dogs like wild fire. First the military base, and then it reached beyond its gates to every household in America. Man’s best friend just became his worst enemy.

They hunt in packs, and seem to possess a great intelligence. We are no longer on the top of the food chain.

We played it safe by staying away from the cities and living in the country sides. Moving from farm to farm taking what we needed and then moving on, but they must have been hunting us for days; waiting for the right time to strike. Maybe it was because we started to feel safe, like we could wait it out, or we had gotten lazy and didn’t cover our tracks as well as we thought.

We picked this house since it sat along the Mississippi River, it had plenty of supplies and we could use the river to catch fish for food in case supplies ran low.

There had to be at least twenty in the pack; they began circling the house last night cutting off all routes of escape. Once they knew we couldn’t escape, and nightfall came they rushed the house. I was able to get to the second story, but was forced to listen to the cries of my fallen friends.

And now I wait for my fate, wondering when it will be my time. I watch from the window, as they watch me; while I write this. Sunset will soon be here, and as I look upon the beautiful artwork of the sky. I wonder if this will be the last time.
© Copyright 2010 J.Rich (j.richardson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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