Concerned Dalmatian
Panic.
That little thing vanished. How? It was right there two seconds ago. You are staring at me, with that inquiring gaze that I… I can’t really comprehend. I know you trusted me, and suddenly I feel ashamed of my futility. I had a simple task, and I failed it. Greatly. No, it can’t be. It must be somewhere. I won’t disappoint you. I can’t.
There, I run towards the corner of the room, maybe it has slipped towards the kitchen. I’ve made hardly two steps that a thought pops in my mind: the sofa. It must be there. Oh, silly me, you always made the most incredible findings under the sofa. And instead… no. Only clumps of dust.
The tension grows, a shiver runs down my neck. I have to find it again. I rush myself from room to room, slipping on the parquet. You yell at me something about the scratches I’m leaving on it, but I ignore that. I let you down once, and it won’t happen again.
I plunge under every piece of furniture that comes in sight, but I can only find rubbish. A couple of times, I stop and wonder what the heck is doing the most diverse stuff in those corners. Maybe I had dropped that, or perhaps it was you… It doesn’t matter now. I have to stay focused.
While I run, I think how many times I’ve already saved that poor thing from thousands of perils… That time it was gonna drown into the pond; I reached for it at the very last moment, it was all soaked when I grabbed it. You were there, and were so happy after.
All those adventures we had in the fields, far from the infernal machines… How often it liked to dart in the tall grass! But I always found it before it was too late… and you were there too, every time, and were so joyful.
I have so many good memories of your smiles — I need to make you happy! I have to find that! After searching all the floor, I try the door –how can it be gone outside?– and it’s closed. I groan of frustration, and look at the stairs. It is impossible that it climbed over there. It is so tiny! Another cry comes out of my mouth as I run around in circles.
You see me pondering, and call me. More miserable than ever, I approach you, feeling myself lost — and I see it. It is right in your hand. But… It was gone! Did you find it? I know you didn’t throw that — What’s its damn name? Ball! You hadn’t thrown the ball, I’m almost sure. Yes, you made a fast movement, but… I’m starting to doubt everything. Even… you? I’m tired. I lay my head on your leg. But you’re smiling again, and that’s all that matters.
You reach out to me with your hand and caress me. “Silly dog.”
This week, the story was shorter than the usual because I’ve got lots of things to do, so I wanted to keep it short. Also, it was the very first time that I didn’t prepare some sort of scheme on my notepad: I just sat down and started typing. I had some kind of very simple plot in my mind, but I didn’t want to add complexity. Did I like it? Dunno.
Also, until the end the identity of the narrator had to remain hidden. Did I succeed? 👀
Panic.
That little thing vanished. How? It was right there two seconds ago. You are staring at me, with that inquiring gaze that I… I can’t really comprehend. I know you trusted me, and suddenly I feel ashamed of my futility. I had a simple task, and I failed it. Greatly. No, it can’t be. It must be somewhere. I won’t disappoint you. I can’t.
There, I run towards the corner of the room, maybe it has slipped towards the kitchen. I’ve made hardly two steps that a thought pops in my mind: the sofa. It must be there. Oh, silly me, you always made the most incredible findings under the sofa. And instead… no. Only clumps of dust.