DOG EAT DOG: By Brian Barnett
Friday, September 11th, 2009Lewis ran. His heart pounded violently against his ribcage. His school books repeatedly slammed against his back as his backpack bounced to and fro.
The dogs were gaining on him.
He could hear their throaty growls, their barks, their panting. He feared that they would finally catch him. After a week of trying, they would finally catch their prey.
The new neighbors, the Morrows, lived down the street. They never chained up their dogs. This was the result.
Dry mouthed, Lewis wheezed deep, panting breaths. His ten-year-old body had nearly given out. His legs burned and his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment.
Who owns pure-bred pit-bulls anyway? Any idiot with pit-bulls shoukld know to chain them up. But not the Morrows.
Lewis was sure that it was an entertaining sort of sport for them. He assumed that they waited until after school and then crowded around their window to see the show. “Maybe this time they’ll gut ‘im Cletus!” He imagined one of his slack-jawed neighbors to say.
His house finally came into view. It still seemed miles away. His mother was sweeping the porch. She would be able to have the door open. A ray of hope beamed down upon Lewis.
“Mom!” He cried out hoarsely.
“Oh my God!” She gasped. She threw the broom aside and nearly ran to aid her son. Then she thought better of it. She would be more of a help to open the door and fend them off if need be.
“Run Lewis!” She screamed.
Lewis did not dare to look over his shoulder. He could tell by the increasing patter of their claws clicking against the sidewalk that they were gaining ground.
He turned into the yard. He felt hot breath against his right hand. He yelped in fear and lunged onto the porch and lost his balance.
Almost immediately one of the dogs was upon him. It ripped into his backpack and savagely tore at it. Lewis’ schoolbooks spilled out onto the porch. He began to scream with panic.
His mother kicked the dog in its ribs, sending it off the porch with a yelp. The others nearly leapt at her throat, but hesitated.
They stared into her eyes and backed off immediately. Their growls turned to whimpers. She narrowed her eyes further and showed her teeth and they turned and ran back to their home down the street.
She helped her battered son off of the porch and dusted him off.
“I skinned my knee.” He groaned. A trickle of blood ran down and soaked into his sock.
His mother nearly felt a red fog overtake her. She wanted to march down to the Morrows and gut every one of the dogs and their owners. But, she took a deep breath and calmed herself.
“Let’s go in and get you a Band-Aid and some peroxide.” She suggested.
“But that stings!” he protested.
“You’ll be fine. It’ll only hurt for a second, I promise.”
“What about tomorrow? They might get me tomorrow!” His big blue eyes were filled with tears. He was truly scared.
She patted his head and held him close with a tight hug. “Don’t worry, they won’t bother you again. I promise.”
She knew the dogs would never bother her son again, for that night was the night of the full moon. She and her husband finally had something to focus their lycanthropic rage upon. The Morrows and their dogs had made the biggest mistake of their lives that day. Never attack the son of werewolves.
©2009 Brian Barnett
