Road trip rebound

I have spent two of the last four days driving and I hate driving. I am glad I spent time with my wife but I would have preferred not to have spent so many hours driving.

Oh well, still time spent with my girl. Can’t really fault that.

Happy Birthday again my dearest. I love you.

L. E. White

Mistaken Identity

Leo leaned his head back, feeling the rough bark of the tree through his damp hair. Each sharp edge bit just a little, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the throbbing pain of the bite.

As his eyes turned down to look at his leg, his head responded by nodding forward. In a wave, his eyes crawled over the injury before his chin fell to his chest. The raw, ragged red of blood and flesh mixed with the shredded remains of his jeans. The shining white, splintered bones that should have led to his ankle stuck out without a foot connected to them. He knew he would die and he hoped it would be fast.

The thump of a heavy step caused him to try to lift his eyes so that he could look at his attacker. This time, his head wouldn’t lift, so he just rolled his face to his shoulder and looked out of the corner of his eye.

He had come chasing a monster. Legends of a werewolf had worked their way out of the swamp and onto the message board he frequented. Leo looked at the heavy claws on the end of the powerful paw, getting a chance to see if lift off the ground to deliver what he hoped was the final blow.

He hadn’t found a mythical monster when he walked into the cave across the clearing from him. Instead, Leo had stumbled into the den of a large, reddish bear. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch as the animal took one last swing.

Hide

I watched the movie, “Battle Dogs” recently. It was a strange take on werewolves that had potential, but lacked any sense of horror. This movie turned out to be an action file.

I was disappointed. It was probably my own fault though; I was expecting a horror movie, a monster movie. I wanted something that would make me look over my shoulder and peek around the corner before walking in. What I got wasn’t even close.

Like I said, I was disappointed.

L. E. White

Hide

Sarah stretched, reaching as far as possible to try and flatten out. She shifted her hips and shoulders back and forth like some exotic dancer. As her body wiggled, she moved sideways, ending up far enough under the car so that she wouldn’t be seen unless someone was going to lie down on the ground beside of her.

“I’m safe,” she thought.

She took a shallow breath, dragging in as much air as the tight space would allow.

The idea had been to wait for them to go past. They shouldn’t have been able to see her.

She heard one loud sniffling sound before long, thin fingers wrapped around her ankles and drug her out into the open.

 

Bitten

Nothing but story this week. Life can be like that sometimes.

L. E. White

Bitten

Jack snarled, a low rumble coming out of his throat as his upper lip curled back to reveal a row of teeth that were stained by years of cigarettes and coffee. The growl sounded like he was trying to clear his throat without making enough noise to disturb the other people in the room.

The doctor looked up at him, eyebrows coming closers together as the man’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you all right sir?”

“I’m fine.”

Samantha let out a disgusted sigh. She opened her mouth to tell her husband to stop being silly, but clamped it back shut. Her lips pressed together as she hissed from the pain of her swollen finger being straightened by the physician.

“That seems like it’s pretty painful,” The doctor said. Jack saw her free hand jerk as the doctor wiggled her finger again. “I think it is also more swollen today than it was yesterday.”

“Yeah, it didn’t get any better,” the short redhead said as she twisted her fingers into the sheets of the emergency room bed she was sitting on. “I was hoping the swelling would…” Her words cut off and she jumped again before finishing her sentence.  “Would go down, but I don’t think it did.”

Jack clenched his fist tighter, fighting the urge to punch the tall, skinny man for hurting his wife. Each time she hissed or jumped, Jack’s arm would twitch. After the first couple of times, he put his hands into his pockets to hide his agitation. He was sure that she knew what was going on, but he didn’t want to frighten the doctor into asking him to leave her room.

If that happened, then he would start hurting people. They weren’t going to make him leave her.

“You need surgery to clean out the sheath around your tendon,” the doctor said. He released her hand and stepped back to lean against the wall. “It is a simple procedure, but it is a little painful.”

Samantha looked over at Jack and forced a smile onto her face. Jack did the same, hoping that she wouldn’t worry about his temper.

***

Jack watched her eyes flutter open as she fought off the effects of the pain killers. He wasn’t a patient man when it came to his wife’s health and wellbeing, but he did his best to keep her comfortable.

Samantha had come out of the surgery fine and Jack had taken her home and put her to bed without incident. The only problem was that he was now the one who had to take care of her pets.

It had been one of her tiny, flying sugar gliders that had bit her. Samantha had been playing with it when her cat had jumped into her lap. The sugar glider had panicked and tried to escape, biting her finger in the process.

Jack wanted to fry the little bastard and serve it to her.

He went to the kitchen and filled the little bowls. He walked back with slow, dragging steps, fighting to keep from making a mess as he carried them into the bedroom where the cages stood silent watch around the bed. She loved being able to watch them as she fell asleep.

Jack had just opened the cage when he heard something scratch against the back door. He looked up, wondering if the ignorant mutt his wife adopted had forgotten how to use the doggy door again, before looking back to the cage.

“Stay in there,” he whispered to the sugar glider that was peeking out of the exercise wheel at him. “I don’t want to chase you around and wake her up.

He stopped again when he heard slow cracking, like someone breaking spaghetti, coming from the other room. Jack listened, looking back over his should and seeing the little black and white dog lying over his wife’s feet. It started to whine. The Glider ran up his sleeve and crawled into the breast pocket of his shirt.

“It isn’t you,” he asked the dog as he headed towards the living room. “What the hell is trying to get in?”

When Jack stepped into the living room, he froze. The cracking and splintering of the door was growing louder as a pair of large, hairy paws pushed to widen the opening.

The glass in the door pulled away from the goop that sealed them into their frames. Jack stood and watched, staring with his mouth hanging open as one of the panes fell out and hit the floor with a tink.

“What the hell?”

A single eye peeked inside from between the paws. Light from the television reflected off of it, giving it a sick green shine.

Two more pieces of glass fell and the beast snorted.

Jack lunged forward. His shotgun was in the coat closet near the door. He had no idea what that thing was, but he was sure that if it got through the door, he was dead.

They were dead.

He grabbed the knob and started to open the door when the paws moved away. Jack looked at the splintered opening, wondering if he had scared it away when one of the arms shot toward him.

The creature might not fit all the way in yet, but that single arm was long enough to hit Jack in the ankles and send his feet out from under him. He crashed down on the rug, landing with a thump that jarred his teeth together. His arm went numb from the impact and Jack rolled onto his back, grabbing his elbow with his other hand.

The paw opened up right above him, revealing four long fingers with more joints than Jack thought it should have had. The creature grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled the man towards the doggy door. Jack reached down and grabbed at the fingers, trying to pry them loose.

The glider let out a warbling screech and hustled out of Jack’s pocket. He figured it was running away, but was surprised when it ran up the furry arm and through the door.

Jack put his hand against the door, trying to stop the thing from dragging him out. He strained, but his arm folded up and his head smacked against the bottom of the door. Stars flashed in his eyes and a ring of darkness began to close up over his head. The last thing he heard was the little glider making a chirping noise that Samantha had called their happy sound.

Followed by a similar, though much deeper, chirping.

 

Dork Tower | The Place for All Things Dork

Dork Tower | The Place for All Things Dork.

Every writer who reads this will realize how accurate it is. Everyone else will look at this with a funny expression and shake their heads at the insanity we bring to the world.

Well done, @muskrat_john

Switching things up

I hate winter. Snow and ice are in the forecast and I can’t help but snarl. I know that one of my favorite characters, Calvin, loves building snowmen and throwing snowballs, but I don’t care. I detest this vile season. My father is in warmer climate at the moment and I am more than a little jealous.

If I want to see snow, I will change my desktop background. Thank you very much.

I actually couldn’t do that. I would have to go download a picture with snow. I don’t have a photo with snow in it in my slideshow. I have a picture of kids using a flamethrower to kill a demonic snow man, but no pics of cute animals huddled together for warmth.

You have your scary, I have mine.

So I will continue to hate this season and wish that I could go to warmer climates. One of these days, but not today.

By the way, if you are the person who is praying for snow, you better hope I don’t find you.

I have always said that this is a place for writing exercises and experimentation. Today’s story is different. I felt like a change. I hope you like it.

L. E. White

Pet

The sound of the key in the door is the signal that she has been waiting for. She is obedient and knows what is expected of her. In the span of the seconds between the key striking the lock and her master turning the door’s knob, she has assumed her position on the floor.

He steps inside and looks at her with a smile. She looks calm, her face a mask of control that fails to hide the excitement in her eyes. He can see it and it makes him smile.

The man removes his coat and hangs it on the rack before moving toward his pet. She fidgets, unable to fully contain her excitement at his return. The man smiles and reaches down, caressing her before heading to the kitchen.

She moves now, going to the doorway to watch as he works. He does not touch her again, but every now and then he looks over and smiles. They both enjoy this time, another moment spent together. Words are not needed, so the silence is only broken by the sizzling of meat and the bubbling of whatever pots or pans he is using.

After they have eaten and the kitchen is clean, the pair end up on the couch together. She lays down, placing her head in his lap, and he runs his hand up and down her body. She is thrilled by his touch but it just isn’t enough. She squirms and wiggles, trying to shift so that his hands touches the places she wants touched, but he ignores her and continues his slow, soft caress. She groans, but it is not loud enough to warrant a scolding.

When the newscaster says goodnight, the man stands up. She does not leave the couch, allowing him to go get their toys without her despite her knowing what he is getting. She will make a game of this, if only to increase her own anticipation.

When he returns, he has a collar. It is made of soft leather and it has a metal plate attached to it, declaring to the world that she is his. He walks up and places it on her.

“Are you ready?”

She doesn’t answer him. Instead she stretches, reaching as far as she can. He smiles as he watches her muscles move. After that, she rolls off of the couch and moves to a spot on the rug beside of him.

He clips the leash onto the loop of the collar with the whispered words, “Good Girl.”

Hours later, they are lying in bed together. His fingers rest in her silky tresses, but neither of them are moving. Each is exhausted and drifting into sleep. “Good night, Ellie,” he says.

She snuggles closer, lying so that they touch as much as possible while lying side by side.

“Good night Jon.”

Calvin and Hobbes Comic Strip on GoComics.com

Calvin and Hobbes Comic Strip on GoComics.com.

 

I know exactly how Calvin’s father feels. 😦