By: Marco Etheridge
August 2026
An old lady scuttles through the mid-century vault of Vienna’s Westbahnhof, towing a rolling case and a black cocker spaniel at the end of a taut leash.
The mutt is a living dust mop sliding on its belly, limbs splayed forward, but resistance is futile. Its claws find no purchase on the marble floor.
The woman alters her course. Inertia spins the spaniel wide. As she looms closer, I see her terrible hair. Her head is encased in a horrible wig the exact color and shape of the dog she drags in her wake.
I am transfixed. Suddenly afraid, I step aside to avoid the impending collision. As the determined woman sweeps past, the dog’s sorrowful eyes meet mine.
A pleading voice fills my brain.
A knife, scissors, hedge clippers… anything!
But I am a coward.
One last word as the doomed dog slides past my feet: Bastard!
Marco Etheridge is a writer, occasional playwright, and part-time poet. He lives in Austria. His writing has been published around the globe. When not crafting stories, Marco is a contributing editor for a new ‘Zine called Hotch Potch.
Cover image source: “They Let the Dogs Out” by Artist Unknown