Writing Prompt

I lay down by the kitchen table as my humans eat dinner. I look longingly at their gravy covered chicken; it looks better than any dry kibble I’ve had.

One of the smaller ones notices me, and sneaks a surpassing piece of chicken, trying to act normal. I chomp it up quickly, and lick the human’s hand in acknowledgment.

But then my super-sense goes off in my head, and I bolt to the sliding door, whining and tapping my claws on the floor, trying to signal I ‘need’ to go to the bathroom.

“Ok, ok, here you go, Charlie.” The biggest human says as he opens the door for me. I rush out to the lawn, and when the humans aren’t looking I duck under the deck, where my magic super suit lays, waiting for me. It will turn me into a super hero. It zaps onto my body, and suddenly I’m Superdog, who can fly and control humans.

I look into my mind, using the super-sense to find out what’s happening. It shows me that someone in black with a gun is breaking into… my house!

I rush out of the deck to get back inside. But only then I realize that I have my suit on and my humans have noticed me. I see their recognition and surprise, but they let me in. I fly to the front door and bust through it, finding the burglar standing there.

But it’s one of the humans I recognize. It’s from one of the bigger humans litter, my original owner. I have a spurt of love for them, but I shove that out of my mind.

I bark and snarl at them while the point their gun at me. I fly circles, snapping at their head and making them bleed. As I swerve around, I snatch a peek of my humans on the phone, probably calling the police.

I feel only rage as I slice cuts in the human, each wound for each wound they have me when I was in their possession.

The police arrive, and they have to muzzle me to stop me from killing the human. I finally realize what I have done, pity and shame rushing over me like a wave.

As they take the human away in the ambulance, I briefly think, “I’m sorry, human.”

Looking inwards this part was standing above the perfumes. If scent could rot in your mind this was where it would have done so.

It called her a witch too and she has been repulsed by that too.

He sighed, the puzzle was saying Torrie was deeply connected somewhere. Why couldn’t his time be filled with simpler matters where he could just tend the dead on behalf of the bereaved. That was where his civic duty belonged. Macabre maybe but it helped people deal with grief and he felt good about that.

As he did with frequenting the Oak. These things were fixed and not filled with the unexpected. They were normal and devoid of supernatural impossibilities and people who resigned from the path at sensible ages. Or even people that walked in time and sent letters. It was wrong and against the natural order of things. Into the darkness he whispered his thinking aloud.

“Why me, what have I done to warrant all of this?”

He rested both hands on the top of the stone wall surrounding the patio save for some steps that led up to a lawn that in turn ran into the trees.

“If I am going insane please tell me, someone… Anyone…”

A breeze drew in momentarily from the east and on it rode a child’s voice.

“Because you made an oath to protect me.”

“The last time I helped it got you killed.”

I knew that the two men seated at the bar in front of me would be exchanging fists soon. The entire establishment could feel the magnetic repulsion immolating from their shared space. It was nearing 1AM now, and both of them had drank enough of the sauce to loosen their tongues. Yet against all of my better judgement, I still felt that I could change the impossible in this situation.

Their voices got raised over the television that sat in an upper corner behind the bar. Looking back, it could have been over anything. The long haired guy in a leather jacket wanted to watch a rock concert. The slimmer man with the backwards cap wanted to watch sports.

I suppose the entire place joined in on their conversation when the long haired fellow threw his stool back in a fit of rage and yelled out “what did you call me!?”

Then came the expected “Hey what’s your problem, Bro!?” From the opposing backwards hat guy.

That was the moment I had decided to step forward. It was a foolish thing to do. “Hey guys, relax. There’s a documentary on the animal station that I kind of wanted to-“

That is when the first fist struck my face. It caught me completely off guard and I stumbled backwards. Before I could even register who threw the punch, there came another, and another. Before I knew it I was throwing punches back, and all three of us were now going at it.

When the dust settled and all three of us laid on the floor of the bar, bruised and catching our breaths, I looked back up at the barmaid, her hands on her hips, staring over us with an angry frown. In one hand she held the plug to the television.

“All three of you! Out! NOW!”

“No, I wasn’t trying to-“ I tried to explain, but she cut me off.

“I SAID OUT! NOW! YOUR BANNED! DON’T COME BACK!”

I limped out of the bar, the other two following me in tow, still grumbling at each other over who’s fault it really was. That was the moment when the lesson hit me. Next time, just leave it alone.

He sat there, at the edge of the bed, numbly, staring at the beige walls of the hospital room. A cop stood right outside the door and low mutters could be heard outside but other than that there was nothing to pull him from his dark thoughts.

He should be boiling with rage, trembling in fear, sick with… guilt? But no… he sat there, the lights dimmed around him to coddle his aching head. They had given him something to calm him but he wasn’t sure if it was working. This very well could be him in shock. He had heard the EMTs saying something about that.

This could be just a bad dream. He could still be asleep, inside a nightmare. He remembered the two bodies, the blood on him hands of the dying man. They tried to kill him and they knew each other. They didn’t particularly like each other either. Like it was some dark joke he broke into a hysterical giggling before it was broken by a hiccuping sob and he found himself suddenly missing the numbness that before had blanketed him. No, he thought as something salty ran down his face, leaving silver trails to mark their passage, no… feeling something meant he was still alive. No matter how much it hurt, it was better to feel something, anything.

A knock at the door. “Adam Fritz?” It was an officer. Of course she would come in while he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. He heard the tremors and cracks in his voice, like a fault line running through his sentence.

“Is… is he sti-ll alive? Are– are an-y of the them still a-live?”

Her head lowered for a moment and he heard the terrified groan rio from his throat. Three… “Two were dead on sight, the cashier, Ian Burns… it was too late.” Three people were dead… right in front of him… “Did you recognize either of the…”

Her next words were lost in shock and he realized shock was a lot worse than the brain dead medication he experienced before. What was he going to tell his roommate? That terrible laughter welled up once more in his throat, dissolving into agonized sobs. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldnt… couldn’t…

A sharp pinch in his neck. A dizziness. An undisturbed sleep, simply postponing the nightmare that was indeed reality.

He was trying to wrestle the man to the ground, choking him. A second seemed to last a lifetime but suddenly he felt his nose give way under the man’s elbow and with a loud crunch he dropped to the floor, blood dripping through his hands. “BANG! BANG!” Shots fired in the air. He couldn’t see! The cashier! Is he still alive? He started crawling away and made it to the candy aisle when someone else came running in. “Where’s the money?!”

“I don’t know! Probably by the cashier I just shot!” They were panicked, their voices high and words hurried.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, did he call the cops?!”

“I told you, moron! I don’t know!” He felt a hand on his shoulder as one of the masked men flipped him over on his back. He was still wearing the ski mask but his shirt… it’s him. It’s the same one he was wearing this morning, curled up on the couch in the apartment that he didn’t chip a dime in for. “Sorry, Adam… I don’t have a choice…” A strangled noise came from his throat, choking on the coppery blood that stained his face. The sleaze of a roommate straightened and pointed the gun at his head.

“BANG! BANG!”

Blood splattered his grey hoodie even more. It patterned the reflective laminate floor like ink blots. The cashier…

“Are you okay?” The sound was thin, pained, followed by the clatter of the pistol as it fell to the ground. “I’m dialing 9-…” His voice faded away with his consciousness and and he was shaken out of his stupor, galvanized into action. He stepped over the two bodies of the intruders, working his hardest to ignore it and stumbled on trembling legs to the cellphone by the cashier. He’s just asleep… he’s just asleep. He dying… but he’s just asleep…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s been a robbery… the… oh god… the cashier was shot…” He fumbled to put it on speaker phone and set it down beside him. He took off his hoodie, reasoning the light grey material was already stained beyond salvation, and pressed it to the wound in the man’s stomach. Blood welled up between his fingers, it’s smell sweet but nauseating. He knew it was essential to keep pressure and minimize the bleeding. He hoped he was right… he saw it on TV… “He’s lost… a lot of blood… please!” The last word broke off into near hysterical sobbing. “I need an ambulance!”

The operator was professional and enunciated very clearly, her voice ringing like a bell in the deadly silent store… no just silent… please just silent… “Okay, Help is on the way. Was anybody else injured?”

“Yeah… the robbers… there were two of em…”

“Can you tell me their condition? Are they still alive?”

“No… I… I don’t know… they don’t look good.” He glanced over, forced himself to work through the fear of what he would see. Blood splattered the back of ones head and the other had a chunk of… he was halfway across the room. “No… I think their dead… their dead…”

“Alright… take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. Your going to be alright…”

Inspired by ‘Story’ by NF

The rumpled sheets were his first sight, depressing shade of grey. It matched his mood. He stared at the screen of his phone, as though we actually had any notifications to check. It eventually started buzzing again, the seven minute snooze having gone by unappreciated. The noise was like bells pealing in his skull and he reached for the bottle of Tylenol before realizing there was no tell-tale rattle. Great… just great. Today is going to be torture…

After getting ready quickly, he opened the door quietly, praying it wouldn’t creak. It was one small blessing that was granted. His roommate was curled up on the couch with her sleazy boyfriend. He lived here but of course didn’t help with rent, instead living on her half of the rent and food. She said he “invests”, whatever that meant, but if one thing was clear it was the fact that he was broke. He probably sold drugs… he definitely sold drugs…

His car turned over several times before finally revving up and he was cautious pulling out of the driveway. The tank was nearly at E and his head was throbbing so he pulled over at the 7Eleven at the corner of the street and went through the pumps. He listened to the loud clicks and it finally reached 20 dollars worth. He ducked into his car the grab his card and was greeted by the empty ash tray. He needed cigarettes, forget cold turkey, he was desperate. He grabbed the keys and locked the doors while he walked into the store.

It’s harsh LEDs hummed loudly and flickered, sending light bouncing of the laminated floor tiles and looking at the rows of junk food he was reminded he should get some breakfast. He grabbed a pack of honeybuns as he walked to the huge fridge on the back wall. As he looked at the row of energy drinks, he faintly registered a commotion at the front desk. Probably some drunk homeless guy or a customer’s card didn’t work. He closed the door quietly, minding his migraine and started weaving his way through the aisles of snacks and junk food when her heard a shout.

“Open the drawer!” The sudden yell startled him and he automatically ducked down and put his hands over his head, like the tornado drills they were forced to do as kids in school. His blood rushed in his ears as he eased his head forward to peer around the end cap. The matte black gun was cocked sideways at the cashier. A black ski mask and leather jacket hid the man from view but at the moment it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was the finger that curled around the trigger of the gun, held so carelessly. Curses ran through his head but thankfully he didn’t say anything, instead clasping his hands tightly to hide the shaking. How to get out of here? He couldn’t go through the front, the only other door was behind the desk… the bathroom was outside, in a separate room. Where’s his phone?! He remembered… it was sitting in the cup holder of his car. Isn’t it funny how life works like that? “And some cigarettes! Throw me in the bag!” The man in black’s voice was shaky, almost panicked. This dude was not a pro… a mad laugh threatened to escape, hysterical, but he pushed it down at the next words. “I don’t wanna have to use this, old man, but I’ve done it before! Hurry up!” He couldn’t focus, he was terrified. He turned to flee, further into the store but–

“CLONK!” His numb hand hit a can of soup and it went rolling out into the open. He hurried away before the robber could see him. He held his breath and knew his heart’s rapid-fire thumps would give him away. When he darted across and had a view of the man again, the cashier had already pulled his own gun, taking advantage of the distraction. Weight settled in his stomach at the sight. He could help. The man was focused completely on the cashier, both focused on the barrels at each other’s heads. He could easily sneak up, pull him away… he had to try… he had to try… he started moving, sprinting the last few feet to the man and wrapped his arm around his neck, yanked him back and suddenly the man was fighting him, struggling in his grip, almost growling.

It was never supposed to happen, but it did.

It all started when an innocent man was about to be executed for being a heretic. So, I stopped it. Lucien, the leader of The Order saw it as an act of defiance. That didn’t matter to me, all I did was save that man from being killed for having a voice. Lucien ended up sparing that man and told me that I would regret what I did. I only did what I thought was right, but I didn’t think that he would actually do it.

It wasn’t until I was in the cathedral, that Lucien followed through with his threat. What really made my blood boil was that Lucien said that people like me “don’t do well behind iron bars.” If it wasn’t for the archdeacon who came to my defense, I would have clobbered the guy. The archdeacon told Lucien that I had claimed Sanctuary. I never actually said that, but he did it to save me. He drove The Order away because soldiers were not allowed inside of the cathedral. However, Lucien had a final say in the matter; he said if I ever set foot outside of the cathedral, he would have me arrested. At first, I didn’t believe him. I ran over to the door to open it. Once I did that, I found out that Lucien was true to his word. He had every soldier stationed at every door. I got frustrated and slammed the door, before I pressed my body against it and slumped down.

Now, I’m stuck in here, inside of the cathedral. If those guys think that they can keep me in here, they’re dead wrong.

My heart raced as I pushed the petal to the floor. Tires spun until I got it under control. The Dodge Challenger changed gears and jolted forward with great speed. Helicopters came closer, while police cars raced in from behind. Shit! “So uh, how’s this working for you?” The villain in the backseat asked. I didn’t need to look back to see the smirk on his face. “Shut the hell up and put the gag back in your mouth, I’m trying to concentrate!” I hissed. “And what’s the poor hero gonna do about it?” He challenged. I grabbed a throwing knife from my belt and chucked it behind me. There was a squeak of pain from the villain, telling me I got his hand. “Ow, you son of a...” he was cut off by the sound of gunshots. Damn it!

(2 hours earlier)

“I’m going to put a stop to whatever it is you’re planning!” I challenged. The villain let out a chuckle. “Sure, you do that, sweetheart. But I don’t think you quite understand.” He circled me. His cologne sent my head spinning. “What did you do?” I growled. He stopped in front of me and lifted my chin. “I looked into your past,” he paused for effect. “So?” “So, I found, that you haven’t always been the nice guy. You‘re a criminal, but covered it up with your good deeds,” he smirked. “I’ve changed,” I muttered. He came in close and I could feel his breath. “Not to the government, you may be covering your past with good deeds but the government won’t care what you do now. They will only think of you as what you were.” The sound of helicopters shook the warehouse. “Come out with your hands up!” I growled deep in my throat and punched the villain in the temple. There was gasp as he collapsed on the ground, unconscious. “If the government is gonna get me, they’re gonna get you too,” I whispered. “But for now we’re gonna escape and you’re going to behave.”

(Present)

The villain spat out his gag again, glaring at me through the rear view mirror. “This is hardly following regulation-“ I yanked hard on the steering wheel, sending the car spinning into an empty parking lot. I turned in my seat and saw him flinch a little. “We’re both on the run from the government, I don’t trust your evil ass not to stab me in the back literally or figuratively. And I’m this close to losing my temper.” I held up my hand and my fingers were already touching. “So if you spit that gag out one more time, I’m going to pull up at the next shop we pass and buy something that will really shut you up. Understood?” The villains unmasked eyes narrowed, obviously resisting the urge to lick his lips. “Why don’t you come back here and try me?” I groaned deep in my throat and slammed on the gas. Jerking the car forward.

Today’s the day I would finally meet him face-to-face. After xxx days of community quarantine, things were finally getting back to normal and we could now go out. Through weeks and months of chatting, today would be our first, offline date.

“I’m already here.” We both texted each other at the same time. There he was, on the other side of the street, smiling beamingly. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, the warmth fill up my cheeks. I could tell that he was feeling the same with the glint in his eyes as he was... absentmindedly crossing the street.

A car was fast approaching his way.

“Look out!” I shouted. My instincts kicked in. Without thinking, I rushed and tried to push him out of the way.

Everything happened so fast. My mind barely had the time to process how I got hit and thrown several meters away.

Blood blurring my vision, I saw shocked from this mishap. I managed to push him. There he was on the other lane, where he was safe from the car that hit me.

But not from the truck careering his way.

Being honest is a fickle thing, because it can backfire. And sometimes that fire even though it is intended to bring warmth and light, can turn into a raging fire bringing all of life to a blaze.

That’s how June felt anyway, she saw a burning forest where I lit a candle. I still don’t know if she actually believes him, or she is just wanting to wish what he said was true. The only thing is that how many days am I going to sit here playing the home wrecker card? I’m not sorry for speaking up, I’m not sorry for lighting the candle where the darkness allowed him to cheat on her. But if in the darkness, a light can be so skewed. With nothing else to compare it to, it stands brighter than normal. And that’s where June lives, tunnel vision, down a dark alley where even the kindest intentions become burnt.