Vixenscratch

Judas picked the farthest stall, hanging his towel on the peg across from it and slinking, tail low, behind the partition. His heart was beating against his ribcage as he fumbled with the taps, biting back a cry as ice-cold water rushed down over him. At least it didn’t take long to heat up, and more »

It was the sort of thing that happened. Not to him, oh no, it was most definitely not the sort of thing that happened to him. But to other people. It was the sort of thing that happened, now and again. No big deal. Not even the sort of thing one planned on — especially more »

The front door of the shop chimed, attracting the attention of the Chinese crested dog who was the current clerk on duty. The shelf he was straightening blocked his view of the entrance, but it certainly didn’t block sound; he continued sorting misplaced DVDs with his ears pricked for the time being. Footfalls reached him, and more »