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SPARKY



For the next few weeks after Gruff was abducted I stayed in the barn, detached from the rest of the outside world. I still could not believe it. My brother, Gruff, gone! I could not believe it; I would not believe it! He could not be gone. I did not want him to be gone. I would not let him be gone. I ran from the barn and scurried about the farm, looking for my lost brother, hoping, praying I would find him. “Gruff…? Gruff…?! Gruff!!” I called out, waiting for the familiar bark of my brother. It did not come, and deep down I knew it would not. Still I looked. I searched under the houses patio with the loose floor board that Gruff discovered. He wasn’t there. I looked. I searched the house form basement to attic. He wasn’t there. I looked in the cow pen and the chicken coop and the horses stable, but as I expected deep down, he was no where to be found. Gruff was taken, and he will never return.

I hung my head in defeat and cried. Out of no where laughter erupted. It was coming from the farmer who was in his house. “Ha, ha! Hew boy! That Seinfeld sure is funny!” I could hear him say in the distance. “How can he laugh at a television show at a time like this!? He gave my brother to an evil person, and he is acting like he was never even here! How can he be so bliss!?” My eyes where a light with anger now. They blazed with the fire of a thousand forest fires. I was angry enough to attack, to fight, to kill even. A chicken clucked its annoying cluck off in a lonely corner. “SHUT UP!!!” I barked at it. The annoying fowl only made my anger worse.

The farmer burst out of his house at the sound of chaos, high pitched clucking filled the air. “What in the hell is go’en on out here? Sounds like some ones getting murdered out he- Oh my god! Sparky!” He shouted. He saw me in the corner biting the chicken. This wasn’t the playful bite that the farmer had seen before. This was to kill. To forever silence the fowl. The chicken squirmed under the constant pressure of my sharp little teeth. “Sparky! Are you out of yer damned mind?!” The farmer asked, reaching a hand out to pry me away from the chicken’s now limp body. As the farmers hand drew closer, I let go of the fowl and bit, as hard as I could. I could taste the blood of both the chicken and the farmer. The farmer screamed and jerked his hand back; dragging my teeth across is hand, creating an even longer, much more jagged cut across his hand. I backed up growling lowly, “What’s gotten in to you, Sparky?!” The farmer asked in shock and genuine disbelief.


The thought that he was clueless as ever about how I felt was like adding fuel to an already out of control fire. I barked at him menacingly and ran for the street, down the road that Gruff’s abductor went, not once looking back to the place I once called home. As I scurried down the path and into a forest I could hear the farmer faintly shout “Sparky, come back! Please come back!”