Every day, he loomed over us like a scarecrow, watching the horizon. Little as we were, we knew he protected us. We didn’t know why we needed protecting, and we didn’t dare ask. He was scary.

One day, we spotted a tall dark figure like him coming our way. We stayed calm. But then he charged down the hill with a bellow, arms windmilling. We ran for shelter, huddled together and waited in silence.

When the door opened, we noticed his black eye, split lip and bloody fist. We couldn’t tell, however, if he was ours or the other one.

(I like the version I wrote for Flash Frenzy the other week better, but that one is 113 words long.)