Skipalong Davey

I try to remain inconspicuous as I slip my hand into my overcoat to retrieve the whistle, then place it in my mouth with my leather glove covering it. A lady’s eyes linger on me as she scans the crowd. They focus on a man carrying two amber drinks. I remain poised.


The gun goes off and the dogs fly out the gates. I blow the silent whistle hard. Number 8 loses focus, forgets the rabbit. After 100 meters most are distracted. One is barking.


I blow until one dog remains, Skipalong Davey . Deaf as a post and fast as lightning.

 

#FLASHFICTION101 March 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY


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