The Bradbury Chronicles

The Bear's Claw

Nothing ever really happened in Sandrine.

Unless you considered the cantankerous neighbours – Mr. Stern and Mr. Harrison – always at each other’s throat.

Richie yawned and flipped the page of his magazine promising a beach paradise he’d never see anytime soon.

Mr. Harrison had called in last night; the complaint? Mr. Sterns was doing weird things on his lawn again.

“…dancing with a bear claw in his hand!”

“You want me to arrest him over that?” Sheriff Dole had asked with a long-suffering sigh.

“Bears are a national treasure! He has no right…!”

Richie stifled another yawn.

The station was vacant except for Irene at the reception; the steady click-clack of her typing enough to have him nodding in weariness.

A quick nap should be all right –

BANG!

Richie snapped to attention as he stared in disbelief at what was now standing before him.

It was Mr. Sterns barely hanging on as his blood-drenched hands clawed at the desk; his expression one of absolute terror.

“I co-co-couldn’t stop it,” he panted. “It was to-too fast…ran…ca-caught him and ate him…I co-couldn’t stop it!”

To Richie’s horror, he could only watch as Mr. Harrison’s head – forever frozen in a silent cry – was suddenly tossed onto his lap.

Richie was unaware he could produce such an unearthly scream, until a hard slap to his cheek forced his lashes to fly open.

It was Irene gawking at him with concern.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Must have been one heck of a nightmare.”

A-a dream?

“Oh, and you might want to go pay a visit to Mr. Harrison,” Irene was saying as she turned away. “Someone called saying they heard a terrible scream…oh?”

Richie was already out the door; sirens soon blaring.

Nothing ever happened in Sandrine

– not unless you believed in weird premonitions.







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Word Count: 300
Prompt: claw, beach, nap
Written For: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"