*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
Comments
Why you kill doggy?