flash fiction by Elizabeth Brico

Does That Work on Velociraptors?

It is one of those days when the sun dazzles across the waves and the sky languishes in its warm blue appeal.  Once upon a time, these were Angie’s favorite days; days when she would leave her shop door open, bask in the marine musk, and let herself be lulled by the sound of seagulls prizing in the distance, but now the smell that rises from the bay is that of gore and rancor, and the only sounds are the shrieks of constant human suffering.