Monday, 12 December 2011

AL.AN - The Origins (Prologue)


It was a quiet night. Much like the ones before that night and much like the ones after that. But something was intent on shattering the silence of that night. Like a naughty kid left alone at home.
 The shadows of the night shone off a lonely figure walking across the empty streets, save for a warring pack of stray dogs, piss marking their territory, sniffing each other’s bottoms and trying to climb on top of each other and moving about like an out of control piston. The sounds of muffled footsteps made them flip their heads with perked up ears. The figure slithered through the night, the hemline of its light summer dress flirted with her knee length boots. She pulled the hood over her head and dug inside the pockets searching for something. The cold misty air from her button-like nose caused turbulence in the still air. The territorial pack responded reflexively to this intrusion of their privacy and space and got behind its leader to take the first course of action. They circled, growled and barked to intimidate, their eyes glowed with anger and intent.
Anita stopped for a moment to light up her cigarette, when she looked up, she saw the angry pack. She ignored them and continued walking. She didn’t feel like getting into trouble today. She just wanted to be left alone. By now it was a matter of pride and ego for the resident pack of dogs. They growled and barked louder, it was when they started clipping at her heels that she stopped again and surveyed the pack for its leader. There he was, his skin spotted like a Swiss cow, the hair on his back standing like a roman legion on a war path, his fluorescent eyes gauging his victim for any sign of fear or weakness. She saw the door ajar of a derelict building out of the corner of her eyes. She walked a few steps to the left, the dogs circled in closer, the air was terse with tension. They knew it was time to go for the kill. The barking menace crept higher and higher, along with their advancing paws. The leader of the pack, leapt forward, aiming for her throat.
One blink and you miss speed, she grabbed the leader by the fur on its neck, in a swift turn of a seasoned stunt bike rider pulling off a regular skid, she banged the door shut on the rest of the pack. Suddenly with no leader, the blood thirsty territorial pack kept pawing at the door wanting to be let into what they now considered to be a private party. But this was no party they wanted to be a part of. 
‘You really shouldn’t have’, Anita reprimanded the dog as she smirked in annoyance while holding the dog by its neck, suspending it in mid – air, like a harmless earthworm squirming to get free. The moonlight streaked through the broken and blacked-out windows of the building tagged ‘to-be-demolished’. It made her eyes seem even more evil than the eyeless skull sticking out in the graveyard. Like a powerful yogic master, she pushed the face of the dog between its front legs. Holding the legs together, she reached into her jacket pocket for her trusted switchblade. And in five swift and swish moves, she made the alpha dog of the pack turn into a cuddly soft toy, as she deftly cut away at the tendons joining the hind legs to its hips, the front legs to its torso and distending his ball-sac. She dropped his incapacitated blood spewing body down on the ground with contempt.
As the dog lay there withering and moaning in pain, Anita’s eyes changed color as the shiny pale moon light glistened against the dark, shiny, oily blood of the dog, which was quickly taking shape of a vile and wet death bed. She squatted next to the dog, marveling at the spurts of blood the arteries sprinkled.
‘‘Awww… are you in pain doggie?’’, Anita asked with concern underlining every single syllable uttered from her child like innocent voice. The dog continued to moan and convulse its body with pain.
‘STOP MOVING YOU STUPID DOGGIE AND ANSWER ME!’ Anita yelled, her shouts muffled by the punches she threw on the dog’s furrow browed face. The fury of punches finally stopped and so did the dog. Its skull broken in seven different places and its brain served as mashed potatoes on the hard concrete floor plate.
‘Doggie? Doggie?’, Anita questioned again like a little girl asking her mother about the whereabouts of her favorite doll.

ps: Would be nice if you actually take the time out and read the whole damn thing.
pps: Let me know what you lot thought about it. Hated it/Loathed it

1 comment:

glywen9 said...

It's mean :(
Why you kill doggy?