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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2153339-And-it-Sat-There-Growling
by Abbers
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #2153339
A piece i wrote yonkos ago - about a man and his dog and Winter itself.
In my brain, the lights flicker on. I am suddenly aware of my surroundings. The rain is pounding down on my log and the freezing cold air pinches my fingers and toes. Winter. Time to play.

A smile grows on my face. I uncurl my long limbs and shake out my wings, the leathery skin creased from nine months of being folded up. I inch out of the log that I’d taken refuge in last spring. As soon as I step out, I’m soaked through. I love that feeling. I get a shiver down my spine. I love that too. I step with my freakishly long legs through the sludgy road. No one can see me; they’re all too busy cuddling up on their sofas with a cup of coffee. Not me, I’m having the time of my life.

The rain continues to pour down. My hat is no more than a soggy mess on my head. My bare arms are covered in goose-bumps and my teeth are chattering, even though I’m not cold. I leap through the grave-yard and dance next to the old church.

Then I remember what I’m here for and I focus again. I climb up the church and sit on the steeple. I can’t see two metres in front of my face but I imagine hills and streams and people. I hate people. I can’t help it; they rejected me, so I’ll reject them. I spit on the image that I made in my head and stand up. I do a swallow dive off the edge then open my wings at the last minute.

I glide through the town, making note of a landmark every so often in case I get lost. Then I reach the house that I’ve been looking for. It looks old and saggy, with a yellowing front door and Perspex windows. In it lives an old man and his dog. I know for a fact that he is just back from his night-time walk and he is probably making himself a hot-chocolate. He knows I’m coming. You can tell by the padlock on the gate and the fact that the curtains are across the windows.

I vault over the gate and open the door easily. Stupid humans, they think they can stop me with a bolt. Wrong! I crouch down so that I fit in the crumbling hallway and navigate myself easily to the kitchen. I peep round the door but there’s no one there. I frown because I hear something behind me. I step to the side so that the flying frying pan doesn’t hit me. Why do humans always use frying pans? I turn round and glare at the man behind me. He is short and has a grey beard. He is bald and has the darkest eyes you have ever seen. They are filled with hatred.

“I’ve come to collect what’s mine.” I say menacingly. I love being melodramatic.

“I told you last year, I don’t have it.” Last year was a mistake; I failed to complete my goal. That will not happen again.

“Of course you have it. I gave it to you.” I grin, loving the look of fear in the old man’s eyes.

“I don’t have it! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because if I do, I’ll never get it back. And if I never get it back then I’m in trouble.” I let out a giggle. “Why don’t you make us some tea?”

“Because you don’t deserve my tea, you…*” I grin; swearing means that he’s scared, which means that he’ll give in easily.

“Please? I only want it back. That’s not too much hassle is it?”

“You are not getting it back.”

My eyes flash. “Where’s that dog of yours?” I know that blackmail won’t work, but a hostage will.

“She’s not here.” I hear a whine from the living room. I grin and we both run at the door. I get there first. The Jack-Russell is lying on a cushion by the fireplace. I sprint towards it and grab it by the scruff of its skinny neck. It yelps and tries to struggle free but I’m holding it too tight. I grab a poker from the bucket near the fire and hold it above the dog’s heart.

“Give it to me!” I screech. The old man’s eyes are filled with fear and hatred and anxiety. Why you would become so attached to a dog I do not know.

The man was in tears now. “Don’t hurt her! I’ll give you it! I’ll give you it!”

I raise my eyebrows. Now he’s talking. “I’m not letting this filthy creature go until you give me it back.”

“See, the thing is I really don’t have it. I didn’t think you’d want it back.”

“I told you I wanted it back! I told you!” I screech, pressing the poker harder into the dog’s flesh. It yelps and whines but I don’t let it go. “You can’t just use a thing like that. In fact, it’s impossible. Now give it to me!”

“Please, believe me. My daughter fell ill, she almost DIED! I had to save her. I had to.” The man’s voice is high pitched and nervous. Tears run down his face and his hands are trembling. Puny human!

“You mean you used it!” I’m yelling now. Anger is pulsing through me and I have to put all of the effort I possess not to kill him with the poker.

“I’m really sorry. If I knew it meant so much to you, I wouldn’t have used it, but my daughter. I couldn’t just let her die. I had to do something!”

I know he’s lying. He has to be lying. Is he lying? He better be. Just at that moment, the dog decides to bite my hand. I lose my well-kept temper and push the poker all the way through.

“NO!” The man shouts but it’s too late. I lay the dog on its cushion and run at the man. He tries to block but I’m too quick. I punch him in the face and he staggers back, blood pouring from his face. I make a grab for his throat but he sticks his chin down to protect his windpipe.
He kicks wildly and one hits me in the shin. I cry out in pain and anger and, despite my aching leg, aim a kick of my own at his stomach. It hits him exactly where I aimed it and he doubles over. I grin and reach for his throat again. This time, he doesn’t even try and stop me. I squeeze until his face goes purple and his eyes bulge. I grin and squeeze harder. He makes a strangled sound and goes limp. I lay him down on the sofa and search him. He doesn’t have it on him so I climb the stairs. He doesn’t use half of the rooms up there so he has probably hidden it in one of them.

I open the door of the first room I come to. It’s empty apart from a bucket in one corner, probably to catch water from a leak. I check in the bucket anyway but it’s not in there. Damn. I keep looking but it’s nowhere. I search every nook and cranny. Every corner, every chest, every drawer. I even look under the beds. It’s literally nowhere. Oh God. I really am in trouble now.

You see, if I don’t find it, I’ve failed. And I can’t fail. Not now. Not after I’ve tried for so long. I’m tired of trying. I want to succeed. And I’m so close that I can smell it.

Well, I could smell it if I had a nose. I go downstairs and slap the man across the face. His eyes flickered open but he fell back unconscious almost instantly. I sigh and slap him again. This time, it works. He sits up and rubs his eyes.

“Where is it?” I hiss, threateningly. He just stares at me. “Tell me!”

“I… I don’t know! It disappeared last month. It got away. It bit through its cage!” The old man stutters.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall it having teeth!” I’m screeching now, angry at the world. I grab his arm and twist it round. The man yelps.

“Okay, okay. I let it out.”

“You WHAT?”

“It was getting angry. It wouldn’t stop screaming. I got reported to the RSPCA by my neighbours because they thought it was my dog! Then it destroyed everything it could reach. I lost my temper and opened the cage and chucked it into the woods.” He looks guilty now, his cheeks going red. Good, he should be guilty. I’ve now lost everything that I’ve lived for.

Pain overtakes me and I slump against the wall. Then I start to wail. Loudly. I kneel on the ground and wail.

I stay like this for maybe an hour and then I stand up. He’s looking at me. “Why are you still here?” I ask him.

“Where am I meant to go?”

“To look for it, that’s where.”

“But it’s freezing! And we’re never going to find it in the dark.”

“Just in case you don’t remember, it glows. And it should be colder but it’s not, because of you, so hurry up and don’t be so stupid.” I’m yelling so much that my throat hurts. I want it back so badly I would kill for it.

“Just let me get my coat will you?” His eyes are pleading. What a wimp!

“Hurry up!”

Five minutes later, we are walking out to the woods. Okay, I have to admit, I’m quite cold. But I like being cold more than anything. I love the cold. It makes you feel alive! It nips your fingers and crushes your toes. If only it was colder.

We look all night. The man gives up when the sun comes up and slumps against a tree, snoring. But I’ve been sleeping for nine months so I’m not tired whatsoever. I climb up a tree and look above the canopy. We are meters from breaking through the other side and we haven’t found it. Oh God, time to die.

I climb back down feeling rotten. The man’s gone. He’s not there! I screech in frustration and jump down from the tree. I slam my fist into it and it really hurts. In fact, it hurts so much that I have a total breakdown. I start kicking leaves and breaking branches off of trees. Then I have a boxing match with a bush. After that, I just sit there and cry. And cry. And cry. I’m so exhausted and beaten that I can’t even be bothered to stay awake any longer. Darkness engulfs me and I let it…

When I open my eyes, everything is glowing. Everything’s glowing light blue. And something is growling. It’s a low, deep sound. A grin creeps over my face as I realise what it is. I sit up and my eyes widen. I squeal because in front of me, it is just sitting there, growling. Thank goodness I’ve found it!

I open my arms and it runs into them, freezing me to the core. But I don’t care. It’s back now.

To say that I’m pleased is an understatement. I take a bag out of my shirt and put it inside. It struggles at first but then it calms down. I rush back to the old man’s house and knock on the door. There is no point in being angry at him. It’s not his fault he’s weak and puny. I can hear someone moving inside and the door opens a tiny bit. When he sees me, he tries to slam the door shut again. But I’m too quick and I stick my foot in between the door and the frame. It hurts. A lot.

“Please let me in. I’ve found it. I’ve come to say sorry for killing your dog and dragging you outside on such a cold night.” I’m trying my best to be polite but it’s hard. Stupid person. Why did he let it go in the first place? I should kill him. But I don’t. I just smile.

I take my aching foot out from the door, expecting to be let in but instead, he slams it in my face again. I decide to give up and I walk back through his wrecked garden. I walk back through the village and back through the graveyard. I don’t fly. I am too tired. I need sleep before I go to the master’s castle. I find my log and curl up inside it. I’m asleep within seconds. I’m getting weaker, I think before slipping away.

I wake up as soon as the sun goes down. I grab the bag, which is still glowing blue, and head north. I fly most of the time, only stopping for a break every few hours. When I finally reach the sea I’m extremely relieved. There is only sea in between me and my destination. No people, no land and no civilisation. Great.

I fly for a week nonstop. I’m good at flying long distances because I don’t really need to eat. When I land on the edge of the north-pole, my legs give out and I’m left sprawling on the ice. I grin because I’m home. I’m finally home, after three years. Three years of hot summers and rainy winters. This is proper winter. It snows almost nonstop and you can’t touch the water without freezing your butt off. Or finger, depends what you touch the water with. Ugh, I’ve spent too much time around humans.

I check inside the bag, making sure that it can’t get out then stand up. I start to trek across the frozen wasteland until I get to a big hill. I say hill but I mean gigantic snow drift. My large feet grip at the ‘hill’ until I get to the top. I’m nearly knocked over by the wind by I steady myself and start to search for the hidden trap door. I find the slight dent in the top and push against it with all my strength. It falls open almost immediately. I creep inside and knock on the ice door on the side of the cavern. “Enter!” Says a slithery voice from inside.

“What if wasn’t me? It could be a human come to kill you. They don’t like winter much over there.” I say.

“Yes, but I knew it was you. You really underestimate my mind you know. I never thought that my own daughter would be so ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant! I’m just… Oh wait, you were joking.” My father always makes me feel awkward. It’s just something that he does.

“Right, did you get it back? There is a right answer.”

“I wouldn’t have come back if I hadn’t. You know I wouldn’t have. Now, the old man let it go in the spring but I made him search all night until he got so tired he went back to his house and I fell asleep. Then I woke up and it was sitting in front of me growling. I came straight here.” I decide that telling the truth was much more important than protecting the man.

“He let it go! He must be punished.” My father is practically shaking with rage. It is quite an amusing thing to watch. Shut up! The old man did nothing to you. You know what will happen.

“No!” I shout too loud. “I mean… no, we can’t hurt him! I already killed his dog.”

“Never mind that, we’ll talk about this later. Now, I think we have some winter to spread.” He grins and I return the smile. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, for so long.

We walk out of the little ice cave with the bag. We stand right on the edge of the ice and I hold the bag open as wide as I can. The glowing blue blob comes out and stands there for a couple of seconds. Then it growls and lifts into the air. It shoots forward and soon it is a little blue speck in the distance. Even though it takes me about a week to fly to Scotland, it will only take it maybe three days maximum. My father looks about as happy as I’ve ever seen him. This fills me with pride.

Two weeks later, I fly across the sea to Scotland. When I get there, it’s covered in a gigantic blanket of snow. I smile because I know this is my doing.

I run up to the old church and climb onto the steeple. The snow is pounding down hard on my head. I’m soaked through. I love that feeling. I get a shiver down my spine. I love that too.

Winter is the best of all the seasons. It makes you shiver and cold and wet. But it’s also beautiful and peaceful. I can’t help but love winter. I am winter. But it is not me that makes it beautiful and peaceful. It is the glowing blue growly thing in the bag. And trust me, if you’re one of those people who hates winter, it will hunt you down. And it will take you on a journey and show you how amazing winter actually is, like it did to me, all those years ago. All you have to do is look in the right places…






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