Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Gruff's story

(Note from the author: As I stated before, the stories will from here on, switch between Gruff and Sparky. This one is Gruff’s story after this is Sparky again, and so on.)


I sat on the fake leather seat of the stranger’s car, shaking in fear. I climbed up to the rear window of the car to steal a last glance at the home I once had. I could see Sparky at the farm’s fence barking for me to come back. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before; anger. Timid little Sparky was full of rage. I pressed my paw up to the glass for my good- bye. The glass was cold upon touch, and dirty by appearance. I suddenly felt a sharp collision with my side as I fell out the window. It was the stranger’s hand that struck me with such force. “Get out of my window you little runt!” The stranger said in a tone I would come to know all to well. It was a tone not even the angriest demon could match. I had fallen to the floor, where I found empty chip bags, beer cans, and a pack of cigarettes.

I began to whimper, due to the pain in my side. The stranger gave a very scary, low and evil laugh at this. What the hell you cry’en about? You think that hurt? You aint felt nothing yet. Just wait till you’re trained. I’m gunna make you into a fighting dog, and you’re gunna win me a lot of money.” I quickly did as he said at those words, and stopped. He turned a knob on the car and his loud metal music blared away it’s hatful tunes. I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, I thought of the farmer, I thought of mother and father, I thought of Sparky, but none of it worked. I shut them tighter, wishing that this was all a dream, wishing to see the farmer’s kind (yet very stupid) smile on his old and wrinkled face. I missed him, Sparky, and even the annoyingly stubborn cows. Once the farmer actually tried to teach us to heard them, which failed miserably. We tried caring them, chasing them, you name it, and they just wouldn’t budge! Finally, Sparky tried something else; he bit the cow’s leg. Needles to say, it didn’t like that. The cow ran through the pen, crashing into the barn, scaring the horses, breaking out the other side of the barn, knocking down the farmer, and destroying anything in its path. The worst part was that Sparky went along for the ride. He didn’t have the sense to let go. Finally when Sparky did let go whoever, the cow stopped, sending Sparky flying through the air and landing in cow leavings. He was never that brave again, and he stayed away from cows for good.

I opened my eyes and found, however, that I was not back at the farm no matter how much I wanted to be back. Instead I was at a house I have never seen before. It was old, very, very old. It’s out side consisted of rotting wood that had gaps at random intervals and windows with broken glass, and it’s grass was unkempt and littered with beer bottles and all other manor of apparel. On one side of the lawn was a sign that read “House for sale”. (I knew the words, “For sale” all too well by then). On the porch where three people, none of them looking very good. First was a tall, lanky man with a cap and a tattoo of a middle finger on his arm. The second was a large man in a sweater, sunglasses and a hat that read, “Muy Grande.” He smoked a weird looking cigarette that smelt funny (I think humans call it weed). The last one was a female that wore a tank top and jeans. She had a lot of piercing on her face and a large tattoo on her arm that had the letters, “B-I-T-C-.” (I couldn’t see the rest of the word, but I could guess). The stranger got out of the car and dragged me out by the scruff of the neck, and suspending me above nose level he said, “I got the little Runt.” It was then, more than ever, I was the most scared, but things where going to get a lot worse before too long.