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by Asrah
Rated: 13+ · Book · Animal · #1452899
A story about a dog and a boy.There.
Prologue:

Dog(new-born):

Darkness shrouded me from all corners.
But out of my fear and my little yelps of frustration, a warm, comforting (Sometimes wet), furry thing would nudge me.
I felt safe leaning onto it, It was my wall of support as I wandered around my new surrounding, unable to use 2 pairs of legs, unable to co-ordinate.
Sometimes when I wandered too far, it would bite me by my neck and pull me closer to it.
Well, the more it pulled me closer, the farther I wanted to stray.
But after it bit me, not so hard, but hard enough to let me yelp in pain that I didn't dare to stray away so much.
Soon it came just instantly, that i learnt to abstract my source to cure the rumbling of my stomach from nibbling onto a certain something.
And even though I couldn't see, I could sense competition with other furry stuff.
We all fought for a place to nibble. And it was through struggling within the furry bodies and gnawing them away from my path that I get a chance to drink the wonderful replenishment.
The strongest amongst the furry bodies, (I guess I'm one of them too) always had priority to drink first. I guess the furry bodies and I learnt that, and we were always pushing each other, treading on each other to get there first.

But despite the struggles daily being blind and fighting for savory liquid, life was good. The wall always licked the other furry bodies and I whenever we were resting.

I don't know what you call this relaxed feeling within me, even though I don't even know who it is caring for me so, so much, that you really rest assured in its care.
I guess you call it faith.

Boy(8 years old):
I look at my reflection in the bedroom window.
Blond smooth hair from mom, blue eyes from dad.
A sharp nose from mom, arched eyebrows from dad.
Then ignoring my reflection, I looked out into the clear blue skies and happy people doing their daily activities.
Jogging people, people driving cars, people walking in smart suits...
But what I really observed was a group of people, most probably a family. The one with the bushy brown beard and a pot-belly was most probably the daddy.
The smiling pregnant woman beside him must be the mummy.
The teenage boy pushing a tiny infant in the pram must be a brother.
The teenage girl far behind, but close enough to the family and shown obvious to following them, talking into a portable phone, and touching her long brown hair all the time must be the sister.
After staring at the family until they were out of sight, I noticed that the window pane was wet.
I looked at my reflection to see an upset face smeared with tears.
I retreated to my hospital bed immediately, the badly scalded hands stinging with pain.
I curled up into a ball under the bed covers.
No. This must be a bad dream.
Yesterday my loving family, Daddy, Mommy, Baby Josephine and Big Brother Tom killed in a fire in the middle of a night?
Me, sole-survivor?
I don't deserve this? I prayed before meals, sleep and everything!
I helped Miss Mchatten, the old widow down the blocks to cross the streets whenever I saw her.
I loved my family!
I helped out with every occasion!
I felt like crying loudly, but who would I be crying to?
Who would care?
God? No way! If he was really there, this would never had happened!
Sunday-school is rubbish! God doesn't exist! He doesn't care!
Where is God when I needed him the most?
If he was as great as the bible mentioned, he would have saved my family!
As my angry thoughts spiraled down my head, the tears couldn't stop. I wished I was dead. At least that way, I could be with my family.
Dead and buried into the ground.
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