Derek voted The Stand Off by Suzanne E Morse into the final and awarded it one judge’s point. Here’s what he had to say about it:

Some stories pivot on a moment in time, a snapshot decision that has unimaginable ramifications. Such tales are magnetic. Suzanne doesn’t give us the goods right away; she builds it up gradually and tells us only what we need to know. There are no adverbs, it’s show without tell. There being both a man and a woman in the car really got under my skin, adding to the sense of menace. It’s the end of innocence. And the story leaves us wanting, hinting at another time when the dog made all the difference.

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The Stand Off

Richard and I always walked down the steep sidewalk that wound from La Jolla to Pacific Beach.  We were the closest siblings in the family, in age and interests.  Richard was 7 and I was 5. We took Princess, my sister’s dog with us.  She loped along ahead of us, wriggling her massive haunches.  The breeders had told my family that she was only part German Shepherd.  Her other half was wolf. As she walked ahead of us, she strode like a wolf.

We walked, taking turns holding Princess’s leash, indulging ourselves in our fantasy world that we had created between us.  We even spoke our own language.  The breeze was gentle and the sun shone.  It was always fun to go walk the dog, distract ourselves from school and home, and pretend we were in our fantasy world again, chatting away in our made-up language.

A large white Buick suddenly interrupted us as it pulled up along the curb of the sidewalk.  A dark-haired woman, slender, looking professional, opened the card door, and peered out.  Beside her, in the driver’s seat, sat a man wearing a suit.

“Come on, we’ll give you a ride,” she beckoned.  We were sweating, and the car looked cool and enticing.  “You look like you could use a rest.  We’ll give you a ride.”

Richard and I stopped and stood there, looking at the big car, and the smiling woman.  It was hot and the ride was tempting, but we remembered what our mother had said.  “Never talk to a stranger much less get in their car.”  So we stood there, unsure of what to do.  Maybe if we walked on, they would just drive away.  We began walking further down the hill, remaining silent, but the white car rolled slowly forward, following us.  The woman kept talking to us, encouraging us to take a ride.  The man just kept staring, rolling the car down the hill with us.

Richard and I kept glancing at each other, becoming nervous, still not sure what to do.  If we complied, then maybe they would just drive us to the bottom of the hill, or maybe give us a ride home.  Or would they?  We kept walking and they kept gliding along beside us.  The woman continued to hold the door open, and reassure us that they just wanted to give us a ride.

Finally, the car pulled ahead of us and drove up a little onto the sidewalk.  The woman said, “ come on, now, get in the car.”  And then it happened.  Princess prickled up the hair on her back, bared her teeth, and began growling.  A deep growl.  Being part wolf, her growl and stance looked fierce.  There was a standoff.  The woman stared at our dog, holding the door open, and Princess planted her feet and growled.  Princess’s reaction was our warning.  She never growled that often.  If she did, they had to be bad people.  We froze in our tracks.

Minutes passed.  At last, the woman looked perplexed, frustrated, she slammed the card door shut, and they drove off down the street.  As soon as they drove away, Princess relaxed, sat down, wagged her tail, and panted with her wet soggy tongue hanging out of her mouth.  All was well again.  But Richard and I knew that we had just avoided being kidnapped.  That our beloved Princess had done her job as a guard dog.  She had saved our lives.  We talked about what could have happened on the walk home.  But we vowed it our secret.   We never told another about it.

Princess was a loving family dog.  She’d bark at strangers or other dogs, but never planned to bite.  I learned the difference.  When she growled and took her wolf-like stance, you better believe it, she planned to bite.  She only did that 3 times that I remember.  And two of the times, she saved my life.

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A reminder of those voting rules…

1. No writer can vote for their own work.

2. Apart from the judges, any voter may only vote once and for one entry.

3. For your vote to count, you need to include a feedback comment so people can see why you chose what and who you chose.

4. Voting ends midnight, Friday August 6, California time.

We’ll announce the winner on Saturday August 7.