On the fifth day, the first snows of winter fell, deadening Artur’s mood along with the city. The traffic grew muffled and sluggish along with the dark slick of river – even the smoke from the refinery’s chimney grew leaden with the cold, sitting hunched over the rooftops.
He spent the next three days anxiously watching the snow settle and harden, the ploughs turn the roads into grey-walled canyons. Then despite his careful planning, the promises he’d made to himself, the waiting became too much.
Buka darted ahead when he opened the apartment door, the little terrier leading the way, following his nose along the beaten snow path between lines of garages, until they reached the One. At the padlocked door, Buka held back, sniffing, cautious, fuzzy tail drooping.
For a moment, Artur paused, key in hand. Then he heard movement inside followed by wet cough.
Artur smiled.
On Saturday, Pegman wandered to Talnakh, in Krasonoyarsk Krai, Russia, where I found this little scene and wondered what was drawing that dog towards the locked hut …
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Word Shamble 
I went by this very same place and wondered the same thing! Your story brings this to life so beautifully–it truly took me there.
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Ah, thank you Karen! Yes, a moment that in reality I’m sure meant nothing, but captured on camera it somehow has a darker meaning. Thanks so much
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Dear Lynn,
Such wonderful descriptions as always. You had me in the moment, shivering with cold. Well done.
Shalom
Rochelle
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Thank you so much Rochelle 🙂
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I love the way you double your descriptions in the first paragraph “deadening Artur’s mood along with the city” and “The traffic grew muffled and sluggish along with the dark slick of river”. I love the phrase “the ploughs turn the roads into grey-walled canyons”.
You make the mood darker and darker until we start to realise how dark Artur’s intentions are…
No happy ending to this story, I fancy!
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Haha! Sadly for all concerned, no happy endings, no. Than you for your kind comments and observations. You’re very good at analysing why things work (if they do!) something I’m not really that good at! Thank you as always
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Penny’s analysis has that hallmark all great editors possess, Lynn, which escapes most writers when they are writing, deepen inside that fictive dream.
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Very true. So hard to analyse your own work. Much better to let someone clever do it! 🙂
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