Innocence Recalimed - Tumblr Posts
I am intrigued by this idea but my mind veered down a different path.
Father’s tone was even as he explained why this was The Right Thing. His lip was firm even as mine trembled with every breath. “This is the way things are done. Dogs like Fish, well, they get old quickly. Look at how grey her muzzle is. Wouldn’t be right to make her suffer the pain of her old joints just to keep her with us.” Father’s shifting side to side as he says it. Mom said when he was young he had an accident, broke his ankle and he’s never been able to stand on it long since then. You wouldn’t know, it happened before you were born. Same with his hair turning grey and the wrinkles pulling down his face. Mom also said that the empty farm up by Suzie’s place had a school on it where Mom went when she was little to learn. You and Suzie’d spent weeks looking all over that farm for that school. Suzie said maybe it was just really really little, like the size of a bird house but your eyes were sharp enough to spot a Chickadee in a bush two houses away so you were sure you’d have found it by now. If it existed.
“But I don’t want to!” Your voice is high pitched due to how tight your throat is. Father’s face gets all blurry until you blink your eyes clear. “She’s mine and I wanna keep her.”
Father sighs and runs his trembling hand through his grey hair. He leans heavily against the wall and lifts his foot up. “Look, kiddo, I know you love her.” His voice is hard, tight but not with fear. He starts shaking his foot and looks over to where the smell of Mom’s cooking is coming from. “But she can’t do what she used to. It’d be cruel to let her try.” He pulls at his shirt, stained with sweat and sticking to him even though he’d only went to work after lunch. “Now are you gonna do this or do I have to?”
He’d asked that same question last week. “You gonna put your toys away or do I have to?” Father’s voice was sharp and hard like it is now. Suzie had been over and you’d chased each other around the yard, Fish nipping at your heels, until you were red in the face with laughter and panting with joy. You’d said “you can Dad” as you sat down to supper with a smile on your face. After supper, and homework done squirming under Mom’s steady eye, you’d pulled your toys out again. Mr. Rabbit’s vest was ripped. Ms. Bear’s eye was missing. The Great and Terrible Mouse only had half a foot. Father watched silently, a small curl at the corner of his lips. Your hands shook then too, throat too tight to say anything. Not that you’d known what to say.
“I will.” You squeaked out through your almost closed throat. Father held a hand to his ear. “I will.”
It’s loud enough that Mom hears and shouts from the other room, “What’s that dear?”
Father bares his yellowed teeth at you, mouth curling up. “Nothing dear.” He calls back to Mom.
The shotgun is heavy against you. You have to bounce it a bit with your hips every time it slides down to far. The metal is cool where you hold the barrel as Father shows you how to load it. He demonstrates the click it makes when it closes then opens it up with a scrap of metal against metal to show you again. Click. Ssshh. Click. Ssshh. Click.
Fish sits when you ask her to, tail wagging slowly as she waits for you to decide what happens next. Words rush to your mouth and stay there when Father places a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Ready?” You narrow your eyes at the ground, jaw aching as your teeth grind against each other. You nod, a short stiff nod.
Ssshh. Click. Bang.
***
You find the book years later. Leather bound, something softer than any cow hide you’ve ever touched. Heavy. Heavier than any other book that size you’ve ever picked up. The writing is a reddish grey that’s faded into the soft yellow of the pages. For some reason it’s easier to read by candlelight than sunlight or any of the electric lights you tried. You flip quickly through it, just as you had when you first found it. As always, the pages stick together in odd asymmetrical clumps. As always, you pause in flipping through the book to reposition it and discover it’s opened to the one page you were looking for.
‘To Reclaim What Is Yours: Gone, Not Forgotten, and Not For Long’ shines brightly in the moonlight. The page looks almost white in the bright light of the full moon. Your eyes scan the words, mouth twisting and flickering as they tumble out of you. They fall into the air and the air twists at their presence, starting to tug and pull at your clothes. You stumble slightly at a particularly strong yank and shout the words louder still. The air echos them back, moaning then howling then shrieking them at you. Your ears feel stabbed with the air and you can no longer hear your own voice. Your jaw tenses and you shout louder. The last word kicks you in the teeth as it leaves.
Bang.
The air stills. Utterly silent. No breeze. No animals. Not even the sound of your own breathing as your chest aches with your held breath.
Click.
The sound of metal hitting against metal. You turn around, breath still held tight to your chest.
Ssshh.
Fish’s tail wags once, slowly.
concept: story that adamantly refuses to address any of the themes that its topics lead it directly toward