A Short Story : A Story?

He called the dog, running over to him was a huge husky with white fur.

She took her large paws off him and sank to the ground in a pleasant sitting position, her tail wagging back and forth fiercely. The dog’s fur was a golden blonde. In the dark of the basement bedroom, it seemed to gleam, sleek and bright.

old worn out shoes and sighed. Bessie came into the bedroom where Floyd was getting

I walked upstairs face red, hands trembling, and body aching. I didn’t even think I could make it up the first couple steps before collapsing into a heap.Before I reached the last glossy maple wood step I heard the sound of little paws and nails scraping, slowly, softly, and sadly through the house. This sound made my heart ache.

"I suppose the boy's got a point," Arthur said. "Look at the pup's li’l legs. Something like that is useless in here."

“Stay inside, son,” I said sternly. “Where is he, Cal?” I was impatient. I wanted to get rid of this dog so it wouldn’t attack the kids. A small breeze passed by.

The dog was

Then he started talking to her telling her everything he went through and what he was feeling then felt like a 10,000 pound weight was lifted off his chest. Dogs are just that way, they don't judge or ridicule and they always show unconditional love no matter what.

“No, I couldn’t do that. I had ‘im too long” and fears if they shoot his dog that “maybe it’d hurt

Michael ran to the bathroom and took a shower. He got out and zipped his cloths on, brushed

I didn’t think that anything was wrong. So, once again I was wrong. I got in the car and asked him why he looked so depressed. He gave me a certain look, and I immediately knew what was wrong. It seemed as in an instant I broke into a screaming tear. No, my dog is not dead, well yet anyway.

Matutinal dampness reaching out to ensconced sheets, clung to my hair and made my clothes stick to my skin. It was still dark when I rolled onto my side, half-drunk, and, after letting my eyes adjust to the blinking red lit numbers, read the time.

To Fenris’s relief, the mutt was still there when he came on the sidewalk. The dog’s back was turned to him but he could clearly see the red leather of a collar on its neck. Good, so it wasn't a stray. That saved him the trouble of bringing it to the nearest animal shelter. Now all he needed to do was get the dog’s attention. Fenris cleared his throat and whistled for good measure. The mabari’s ears perked up attentively.

On a cold December night, Carter Jones was driving at blazing speed to work, because if he didn’t make it on time his boss, Mr. Cookie would fire him. When Carter pulled into his reserved parking spot he let out a humongous yell, because he had forgotten to lock his house door. “Should I go and lock my house and risk losing my job, or should I pray and hope that no one tries to break in,” he said to himself. Carter decided to pray and hope that no one broke into his house. He got to the stairs with about 2 minutes to spare. Carter ran all the way up three levels and made it into his office chair just as Mr. Cookie walked past. “Whew,” Carter said as he brushed aside the sweat that was rolling down his chin.

I watched him fall. Pelting down like rain down the tower that nearly touched the sky. It happened all so fast I couldn't think to move. To react. To shutter. He just fell until his limp body kissed the ground. I tried to move. To run to him. But my body felt paralyzed and broken. I felt a tear slowly run down my cheek as the pain finally slipped out. My once bright blue eyes became red and puffy as a waterfall of tears excited me. I still couldn't move though, my small physique was stuck to the grass under our tree. My heart was crumbed into a million peices. He was gone. He was dead.