My buddy (short story)
I got inspired by a little art/comic thing I saw, and I wanted to write a little something based on it. Tis a sad one, though. (Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, I have checked it but a lot of things can slip through the cracks)
This is a story about my best friend. First of all, I'd like to let you know I'm not very good at recalling names. I can remember faces, but never names. Even the people closest to me. So, to avoid confusion, I'll simply call him my buddy. What can I say? Dogs don't really concentrate on what people are called. Oh, did I neglect to mention I'm a dog? Sorry about that.
Me and my buddy, we were like two peas in a pod. You couldn't have one without the other. Ever since I was adopted by his family, we were always so close. He was much more than a friend, he was the brother I never had. Or maybe I did have a brother. I can't really remember that far back.
After he came home from school he'd take me to the park, and we'd play catch with my favourite toy; a bright blue frisbee. I miss those days.
My buddy doesn't take much notice of me anymore. He's different now. I encourage him to play catch with me, I carry the frisbee around everywhere I go, and whenever I get the chance I place it at his feet. But he just tramples over it and staggers over to something that caught his eye, most likely a dead corpse.
I don't like watching him eat. It saddens me when I see him stripping flesh from bone and shovelling the human meat down his own throat. But I do it anyway. I'm very hungry, and it is very tempting to join him. But I'd never stoop to his level, no matter how hungry I get. I know he's really hungry too but... I don't see why he has to reduce himself to a savage, man-eating monster.
I managed to catch a mouse very recently. It took a lot of energy, and it wasn't really worth it. After all, it's not exactly a very filling meal. Many times I've felt like I have never left to give, but I keep going. For his sake. He may not act like he cares, but he does, and he needs me. And I need him.
It's kind of scary. I wish he'd clean his wounds. He has several bite marks on his arms, and his legs, and one large one around his neck, with blood constantly leaking from them. I wish he'd go see a doctor and get himself patched up. I've tried licking them clean, but he won't let me get close. He's very aggressive. I hate seeing him like this.
He's difficult to cope with. Sometimes he disappears out of my sight. But its easy to find him again, just follow the smell of rotting flesh. I get sorta lonely, even when I am by his side. But at least he's still here.
We used to wander round the neighbour a lot. I past the same house so many times that I lost count. He'd feed on whatever body he came across, until eventually human bodies, dead or alive, became scarce, and we started going further and further out of our home town.
The last time we were there, we stopped by the park. The grass was unkept and was becoming overgrown. I wonder what it's like there now. I found it odd that he brought me there. I had led him here on occasions and had tried to get him to play with me, but had failed miserably every time.
I felt a dash of hope, that an old part of him was shining through after all this time. We stopped by a fountain as we were walking. We used to go there in the old days when I got thirsty. I didn't fancy drinking out of it as it looked dirty and was probably contaminated.
I bounded up the hill, while he followed behind at a slow pace. We were halfway up when I heard the sound of bones cracking. I turned to see him sinking down to his knees and lying face down on the grass verge. I dropped the frisbee and walked up to him, whimpering softly and nudging his face with my cold wet muzzle.
He snarled and lashed out at me. I yelped and jumped back before he could scratch me or latch on to my thick, golden coat. He stared up at me with white, glazed over eyes. He hadn't looked at me in a long time. He didn't look at me again after that.
After leaving town, we walked along the roads, where grass had managed to grow through the cracks in the concrete and nature was beginning to overtake the man made structure. My body was thinning, it was almost like my skin was stretched over a skeleton. My buddy was not much different, he was just a bag of bones. Not matter how much he ate, he just became more and more thin. Food was becoming scarce for both of us, and I am surprised we had made it this far without starving.
I resorted to hunting some small animals that were lurking on the edge of the woods. I gave them to him, just to keep him alive. I'm not sure if he wants to eat me. I've seen him kill people, I've seen him rip there throats out, but yet here I am unharmed. I just don't understand how his mind works, and I probably never will.
One day, he and I, were walking along a road. It was not much different to our day to day routine, which was just wandering aimlessly in search of food.
We passed by what I assumed were the old ruins of a house when I heard it. A clicking sound. My ears perked up and I climbed onto a nearby car to try and get a better view. My vision was not the best, but after sweeping the landscape I noticed a hooded figure standing close to the ruins. I snarled, my hackles raised as I examined the stranger from afar. He or she was aiming some sort of object at my buddy. I'm not sure what it was. But I'd seen it before, and it was deadly.
I leapt.
A loud bang followed shortly after and I hit the concrete with a thud, the asphalt cutting me as I rolled onto my side. I coughed, blood spilling out of my mouth. A red crimson liquid flowed from my chest, soaking my fur and staining the ground. My frisbee.... My favourite toy... The one of the few things I had of my old life was lying out of my reach.
I felt something land on my cheek. It was wet and cold. I thought it might have been rain, a single drop signifying the beginning of a storm. My vision became hazy, as my consciousness began to slip away. I fluttered my eyelids, and I moved my head ever so slightly and stared up at my buddy. My best friend. And he looked down at me, and I could've sworn that I saw tears flowing from his empty, lifeless eyes.
Hey buddy.
Even though we don't play anymore.
Even though you don't call my name anymore.
I love you.
Comments
When I started reading I was happy, wanted to read it.
Then it got weird, then I realized the setting, then I was sad.
Then it ended...Now i'm crying...
I have that way with people.
I'm just kidding. Sorry for making you cry.
Its okay, great story.
Thanks.
Wouldn't have been possible if I hadn't seen that art.
I saw a video like this...The dog didn't die in that though.
Good for him/her!
It was a good story, TKA. I've got a couple of criticisms, but, really, that's just me nitpicking.
Oh please do tell, I'd like to know for future stuff.
That's pretty much it. I still think I'm being nitpicky here, though.
But thanks. I appreciate it.
Good job :O. That was good!
Thank you!
Are you sure you didn't get inspired by the novel ''Bud not Buddy?'' good story tho.
Never heard of it I'm afraid.
A good reason for a dog to pass on something is if it smells bad. Actually, smells probably should have played a bigger role throughout. It was pretty good, though. Poor doggy.
I agree, smell probably should've played a bigger role. Smell and hearing is probably the most important senses for a dog.
I uh.... Not sure how to respond to that.
Uh... Sorry for.... Making you realise?
At first i didn't get the point of this story. But in the halfway through i got it. Now in the end my eyes are watering, but i can't cry, im in the fucking bus stop and going to a fricking birthday party. Btw, you are a good writer. Awesome story.
Thank you so much! That means a lot.