Mar 27, 2011

Weekly piece of writing #2

It's been a week and i'd like to share another piece of writing with those of you still reading. I'm in the process of writing another short story, should be done by Thursday. This was a writing exercise that anyone can do. Basically, write how to kill a dog. This is what I wrote for better or worse.

       I remember jaywalking every day on my way to school for at least a year. I remember cheating on my math test in 6th grade and forgetting to say my prayers. Though nothing I could imagine I have done could be deserving of the vile hateful devil himself manifested on 4 legs. I have a grandma, two puppies and my first girl outside. Our ranch was big enough and it's a lot cheaper to take care of family yourself. Me, Cliff and baby-doll buried them all with our bare hands. We live intimately and I believe everyone should be taken to the ground with care after they're gone the same.

          I also believe your dead ones should remain buried, and not slowly picked apart by a goddamn dog.
We lost my daughter, Zoey, last week to that bug that's been going around. We took her out back and buried her with ash, her favorite teddy bear. One week, and I didn't sleep a wink. Some random morning I wanted to talk to Zoey. Don't know what I was thinking, probably just a sleep deprived delirium. I walked outside to the spot I dug myself when I saw Zoey's body being dragged outside like a ragdoll attached to a pissed off bull.

         It could've been an elephant for all I care and in a blind rage I ran for it. Turned out to be some dog, I dunno happened so long ago. The cuts on my wrists hadn't healed yet, I remember that. This dog so brilliantly white with clean pure fur and a mouth full of blood, I snapped. He didn't run.
I wanted to bury him just as intimately as I did Zoey. I hugged the dog tighter and tighter while its screams filled my ears with music. I wanted him close while I felt his heart stop. While my girls blood was vomited out like a gush of red kool-aid and sinew.

          I felt his ribs snap. I felt his last cough for air in which he spit out a lung ,or hell, maybe part of Zoey. I hugged that dog to death. Hugged him like I wanted to hug Zoey. I didn't start to cry until I ripped it's jaw from it's face and saw part of Zoey's shirt still on it's teeth.
I slept that night, finally.  

© 2011 Johnnie Wright All Rights Reserved

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