Despite the setting sun, the air was frigid and kissed goose pimples to life, caressed strands of hair, persuading them to stand on end, and kicked dust into the air around the pair as they walked over the interstate’s asphalt. Milo shivered and shook, then looked longingly up at George and wished for a break. They had been walking for hours, stopping every so often for a release. As they stopped again, Milo wiggled in the confines of his collar. His eyes traced the black woven leash that was tied around his friend’s wrist, and looked up at George once again, who was leaning over with his hands on his knees, sobbing. Milo looked around, snarling, ready to attack whatever was hurting George. When he saw nothing was around them, he nuzzled George’s swollen leg, licking the caked dust on a pants leg. A faint metallic scent wafted around the two of them, and Milo licked more vigorously. George didn’t let up; he just hung his head, then jerked himself up and screamed an obscenity at the sky. Milo flinched, his tail between his legs. He had never heard George say something so angrily before. Milo looked down, whimpered, and stared at the dirty, broken shoes on George’s feet. A hand reached down and softly stroked Milo’s head. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” George knelt down, holding Milo’s face close to him. He pulled out his phone, pushed buttons, and sighed. “No service.” George gave another sigh, and looked back at Milo. “We’re gonna be okay.”
4 Comments
Marc scanned the email chain from his client. “Dinner should be served at seven. The attire is intentional. Don’t be alarmed.” He chalked it up to some theme party; he had catered many theme parties over his two years in the business. Walking into people’s home as a caterer had proved immensely interesting and amusing. He gathered his pots and spoons, produce and meat, into a large wooden crate and carried it to his truck.
Everytime I walk the sidewalk along Rivers Drive, just where the oak tree stands at the corner where Rivers meets Payne Street, the air grows cold. I remember the powdery outline that enveloped me that night--legs draped over asphalt, arms in grass, my torso contorted over the sidewalk.
On the night I died, I had decided to meet a friend for drinks. My girlfriend, Cheryl, was in her dorm room, working on a paper that was due the next day. I had wanted to break things off, had been thinking about it for a while, but how do you say “I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore” over the phone? You can’t. So, I wanted to wait and tell her in person. It was the only gentlemanly thing I could do. Before I met my friends for drinks, I decided to trek over to her building in West Hall and speak to her. It wasn’t pleasant, for either of us, but it was necessary, I thought. Once our conversation had ended, I desperately needed drinks, so I made my way to the restaurant. Jimmy’s Pizza Bar wasn’t far from campus--I only had to walk a few blocks, and I could easily catch a cab back to my apartment, even at that late hour. I remember, as I walked, there was a ceaseless buzz in my pocket. Within a few minutes, I had 27 messages--missed calls, text messages, Facebook assaults, Twitter hashtags. Ah, life in the time of social media. |
Archives
March 2017
AuthorTony is actively working on several writing projects including a play, a novel, short stories and children stories. Some of these items may appear on this page, and others may appear on the store page (not active). Categories
All
Awards:for "Just Like Mommy"
for "Pim & the Open Drain"
for "Pim & the Glass Jar"
for "One Drink."
for "No Prince."
for "Neither would he."
for "The Burning of Pounce"
for "Revelation, Part Two"
for "Precise Specifications"
Tony's bookshelf: favorites
This book has stuck with me since I finished reading it over three years ago. I was deeply fascinated by the story being told from the point of view of such a young child, and the way he tells the story is so viscerally devastating and b...
by Ernest Cline
From start to finish, this book had me excited! I struggled putting it down. Although many of the references went over my head (because I have yet to enjoy such nerd culture), it didn't matter. The concept and the pure exhilarating joy o...
|