Inanimate by Ava Seberg
Acrylic
Cynophobia by Olivia Paik
Short Story
I stepped out into the brisk wind, hearing the crunch of snow under my boots, and shut the door behind me. I really had to pick up the pace or else I would miss my bus. Both my parents left for work earlier, so if I didn’t get to the bus on time, I would have no ride to school. Not that missing school sounded unattractive, but my parents would be very angry. We went on a family vacation last week, so I was already behind in all my classes and couldn’t afford to miss anything else.
I looked up and felt a gust of tiny snowflakes hit my face.
And then I saw it.
My neighbor’s dog, a big brown mastiff with beady, malicious black eyes, stared directly at me. I read somewhere that dogs could sense fear, and I felt like that dog had that ability by the way it looked at me with such hostility.
At first, I thought I was merely seeing things, but when I wiped the snow out of my eyes, it was still there. Numb with fear, I slowly reached behind me to open the door, but it was locked. I couldn’t scream or run, because that would only aggravate the dog more.
I was trapped.
Right on cue, the dog began to let out low growls. I wasn’t much of a dog — or animal — person, but I could usually stay sane around them. Remembering the fact that this dog bit the woman who used to live in this house and sent her to the E.R., I saw my life flash before my eyes. I had heard the phrase before, but now I finally knew what it really feels like.
Memories that I can barely remember now flooded through my mind. One particular memory stood out. I was nine years old. My parents and I were in some amusement park in Florida. They wanted to ride a rollercoaster with me that I thought was too big and intimidating, so I ran away from my parents and began to cry.
I took a deep breath to stop all the flashbacks but I couldn’t seem to calm myself down. In the heat of the moment, I thought that I was going to die, right there and then. What would my parents do? I still wanted to accomplish more before I died! My last meal should be better than cereal. My parents should sue the owner. If I die, they can at least get money out of it.
I was transported away from my thoughts as the dog continued to bark. I took a deep breath, preparing for an untimely demise, and cleared my mind of all the crazy images swirling in my mind.
Instead, the dog let out one last bark and then turned away, trotting off across my driveway.
“Doggie!” a little girl’s shrill voice called out.
My mind registered her voice as Eliza, my eight year old neighbor. For some odd reason, I threw caution to the wind and decided to follow the dog. A few seconds ago, I thought it was going to attack me. A logical decision would be to walk away. Though I was terrified, there was a part of me that couldn’t leave that little eight year old alone. My whole body shook as I tried to take a step forward. As I heard the crunch of the snow under my feet, I realized that the dog had stopped barking.
I stepped out onto my driveway, only to see Eliza — a bundle of hot pink — hugging the mottled, brown dog. Eliza, noticing my presence, turned her face towards mine, but kept one hand on the dog, petting it.
“Hi! Do you know this dog?” she said, beaming. “It’s the sweetest! And it’s adorable!”
I could already feel my cheeks turning pink. And it wasn’t from the cold. “No… do you?”
“No… but I wish I did. Do you want to pet him?” Eliza moved her hand down to the dog’s neck, ruffling its fur affectionately.
I felt a wave of shame run across me. Was my maturity level really lower than a second grader’s? Wasn’t she even the slightest bit scared of the menacing dog?
But when I looked at the dog’s eyes, they weren’t beady and aggravated, nor did they look like he could sense fear. They were shiny and beaming and matched Eliza’s countenance. The dog was almost… cute.
Slowly, placing one foot after the other, I walked forward towards Eliza and the dog. I crouched down, now eye level with the dog. Putting out my shaking hand, I gently touched the top of the dog’s head. It looked back at me with no malice in its eyes. I continued to stroke the dog’s soft fur, and the dog began to bark again. This time, the barks sounded joyous and content.
Maybe I was a dog person after all.
I looked up and felt a gust of tiny snowflakes hit my face.
And then I saw it.
My neighbor’s dog, a big brown mastiff with beady, malicious black eyes, stared directly at me. I read somewhere that dogs could sense fear, and I felt like that dog had that ability by the way it looked at me with such hostility.
At first, I thought I was merely seeing things, but when I wiped the snow out of my eyes, it was still there. Numb with fear, I slowly reached behind me to open the door, but it was locked. I couldn’t scream or run, because that would only aggravate the dog more.
I was trapped.
Right on cue, the dog began to let out low growls. I wasn’t much of a dog — or animal — person, but I could usually stay sane around them. Remembering the fact that this dog bit the woman who used to live in this house and sent her to the E.R., I saw my life flash before my eyes. I had heard the phrase before, but now I finally knew what it really feels like.
Memories that I can barely remember now flooded through my mind. One particular memory stood out. I was nine years old. My parents and I were in some amusement park in Florida. They wanted to ride a rollercoaster with me that I thought was too big and intimidating, so I ran away from my parents and began to cry.
I took a deep breath to stop all the flashbacks but I couldn’t seem to calm myself down. In the heat of the moment, I thought that I was going to die, right there and then. What would my parents do? I still wanted to accomplish more before I died! My last meal should be better than cereal. My parents should sue the owner. If I die, they can at least get money out of it.
I was transported away from my thoughts as the dog continued to bark. I took a deep breath, preparing for an untimely demise, and cleared my mind of all the crazy images swirling in my mind.
Instead, the dog let out one last bark and then turned away, trotting off across my driveway.
“Doggie!” a little girl’s shrill voice called out.
My mind registered her voice as Eliza, my eight year old neighbor. For some odd reason, I threw caution to the wind and decided to follow the dog. A few seconds ago, I thought it was going to attack me. A logical decision would be to walk away. Though I was terrified, there was a part of me that couldn’t leave that little eight year old alone. My whole body shook as I tried to take a step forward. As I heard the crunch of the snow under my feet, I realized that the dog had stopped barking.
I stepped out onto my driveway, only to see Eliza — a bundle of hot pink — hugging the mottled, brown dog. Eliza, noticing my presence, turned her face towards mine, but kept one hand on the dog, petting it.
“Hi! Do you know this dog?” she said, beaming. “It’s the sweetest! And it’s adorable!”
I could already feel my cheeks turning pink. And it wasn’t from the cold. “No… do you?”
“No… but I wish I did. Do you want to pet him?” Eliza moved her hand down to the dog’s neck, ruffling its fur affectionately.
I felt a wave of shame run across me. Was my maturity level really lower than a second grader’s? Wasn’t she even the slightest bit scared of the menacing dog?
But when I looked at the dog’s eyes, they weren’t beady and aggravated, nor did they look like he could sense fear. They were shiny and beaming and matched Eliza’s countenance. The dog was almost… cute.
Slowly, placing one foot after the other, I walked forward towards Eliza and the dog. I crouched down, now eye level with the dog. Putting out my shaking hand, I gently touched the top of the dog’s head. It looked back at me with no malice in its eyes. I continued to stroke the dog’s soft fur, and the dog began to bark again. This time, the barks sounded joyous and content.
Maybe I was a dog person after all.