Stray Dog

There once was a girl who wanted to be a stray dog. Stray dog would be better than being owned. Better than sleeping outside. Better than being starved. Better than being on a chain. Better than being beaten. Living as a stray dog on the streets would be better than this.

One night there was a storm. He was out in the yard beating her, chain in one hand, the other free. Flashes of lightening, raging across the sky, blinding him. She pulled with her hands at the chain, heels digging into the dirt. Good girls didn’t fight, good dogs didn’t bite. The beating continued until another flash of lightening. He paused to look into the distance. It would rain soon. Now was her chance. Snarling, she dove forward into his chest, knocking him over. he dropped the chain. Scrambling to her feet she ran, hoping he wouldn’t catch hold of her. He didn’t. She heard him screaming and cussing as she jumped the fence and ran down the street.

Just as she always dreamed. The gravel beneath her feet, the chain dragging behind her, the wind whipping her hair. The reality of the situation, that it even was reality, refused to set in. She ran desperately—tears or fear and stress streaming down her face. Then gradually, slowly, the knot in her chest was replaced with something else. She ran and ran and ran until her lungs burned and legs strained with the effort, and still she ran on and on. Behind her the storm grew, growling at the sky holding it back. Soon it would break free and trample the earth beneath it, just as she was.  

Yes, stray dog was better.

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Update/ Take Me Too

*Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t been updating much lately. I’ve hit a bit of a busy streak and haven’t had much time or energy to spare. This blog is still active though! I can’t guarantee a consistent upload schedule, but just know there will still be updates. With that out of the way, here’s a little something I’ve been thinking of for a while and finally wrote down. If I could draw a straight line this would be a children’s book. Maybe someday!

Take Me Too

In a distant land there lived an old, scrunched up woman. She lived in a rickety old shack just outside of town. Every morning she walked the long road into town with a knobby walking stick in one hand and a scratchy potato sack in the other. She walked through the streets looking for road-kill—you know, the poor little critters hit by cars. Turtles, birds, squirrels, raccoons, possums, rabbits, snakes, cats, deer, and yes, even a dog or two. She gathered all these up in her potato sack with care, overlooking not even the smallest of rodents. All the town’s people laughed at the old woman. “She’s a witch!” They cried. “She cooks them in a big pot and eats them!” The old woman paid the people no mind and continued with her task. When the light faded from the sky she began the long trek home.

What the town’s people didn’t know is that the old scrunched up woman really was a witch, and once home she did indeed dump the animals into a big pot over a fire. With the addition of a little bit of this and a little bit of that and a good stirring or two… The animals began to crawl and fly out of the pot! The witch didn’t cook and eat the animals (she was in fact a stout vegetarian) but instead brought them back to life, good as new! You see, this witch was one of the good ones, and possessed a heart so pure and kind she took pity on those animals whose lives ended so abruptly. The revived animals stayed with the witch and she looked after them all her days, teaching them the importance of patience and looking both ways before crossing a street.

P.S. Wow! I’m so close to 200 followers! That’s crazy! Once again, thank you to every single one of you for giving my writing the time of day. It means the world.

Fruit Ninja

“Oh, and we need some nectarines.”

“Ok,” Grabbing one, two, three nectarines, I put them in a bag and deposited them in our cart.

“Oh, and some oranges too.”

“Alright,” I grabbed five oranges (because I really like oranges), put them in a bag and placed them next to the nectarines. “Why are we getting so much?” I asked. A plethora of fruit splayed out before us. We could start our own stand with the amount we continued to add to. Bananas, apples, grapes, cherries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, the list was endless and continued into eternity.

“We’re just stocking up.” My mom answered.

“Stocking up for what?” I shuffled the cart a hair to the left so she could reach the pineapples. “Most of this stuff is gonna rot before we have a chance to eat it.”

“We’ll see,” A whole pineapple in each hand, she hurried on. Shrugging I continued to follow her. My mom could be strange on occasion, but usually with good motivation. Who knows, perhaps we really were opening a stand?     

Suddenly a whoosh sped past my ear. Flinching, I turned looking for the bug to swat. I noticed a stand of watermelon next to my elbow. One particularly plump melon perched on top of the pile, almost as if to say “Pick me!” A certain reflection made me lean in close. To my shock I saw what appeared to be a metal star sticking out of the green skin. A thin trail of pale pink juice leaked out of the hole it left as I pried it out. “Hey mom…?” I wasn’t sure I saw what I saw. Was it a weapon? It looked an awful lot like…

A woman screamed and a man yelled. Glancing up, I saw a lone figure a few feet away dressed in all black. He disappeared and reappeared before me suddenly. I could only see his eyes as they coldly stared down at me. Reaching out he took the shuriken from my hands, drew a sword, and disappeared again.

Hands grabbed my shoulders. “Oh crap,” I heard my mom say. My mouth hug ajar in the stupidest way. What had I just seen?

Chaos exploded around me. More whooshing sounds accompanied an explosion of fruit which quickly coated everything in a sticky mess. My mom pulled me down out of sight and covered my eyes. I fought to see through her fingers and glimpsed an amazing sight.

The man darted from left to right slicing and dicing. The other shoppers who had been near had also ducted and covered only to have various fruit parts shower down upon their heads. I sat in awe at the spectacle.

As quickly as it started it ended. No more was the fruit section of our local grocery store. Shattered wood and seeds littered the floor and my hair. All was quiet and I saw no more of the man in black.

“Wow,” I whispered. My mom stood and pulled me after. “Was that a—ninja?”

“Why does this keep happening to me?” My mom shouted hysterically. The other shoppers looked to her in shock. Sighing, she looked at our cart. Pulp dripped from between the grates in a sick, murder scene fashion. She kicked it angrily and stormed off.

“Mom!” I ran after. “Mom, what was that? That—was the coolest thing ever!”