Mecca

by Ari Collins


We laughed. There the hydrant was, squat, red, and oddly lonely in the deep woods.

“Hear that?” Madison asked me.

A Mastiff came barking through the trees. Dogs were soon everywhere, encircling us.

“Is that play posture?” I wondered nervously.

“No, their tails would be wagging. I think... I think they’re bowing to the hydrant.”