Gemotions

He heard the jingle of the collar first, then the low, rumbling growl. John froze, his hand still on the mailbox. His breath became shallow, quick. He could practically taste the metallic tang of fear on his tongue.

He slowly, deliberately, began to back away. The dog, a hulking black Labrador, was now bounding towards him, its tail a blur.

"Easy, boy," he stammered, his voice thin and reedy. He imagined the feel of its teeth on his skin, the pain, the helplessness. Each footstep felt like an eternity, but he had to get away. He had to.