Poor Despair

The dog was wandering the streets, alone. Through cracked sidewalks, the dog endured. It was a windy, early, and dark morning, and not a single house light was to be seen. The air was cool and frequently blowing. Dark, puffy pillows crowded the sky. The surrounding houses around were new, mansion like, it was the rich part of town after all.

It was chilly, and the dark contours of the night made the place seem to be pulled straight out of a horror movie. But the dog was not mindlessly wandering, no, it had escaped. The dog was trying to escape from something sinister. Something that it sensed. Dogs have a surprising sense, that is, the sense of an unknown entity or intruder. The dog knew not what exactly had happened, but it knew something had happened. It was running away from the evil that emanated from the streets, the ground around it, and the steps before him. The dog saw shadows in the sidewalks and in the grass, following him. He whimpered at the sight of the unknown source of the shadows, and stopped, quickly realizing it was only part of his imagination. Trees, they were only trees.

The dog was cursed.

She did not know it, but she was marked for death. The poor dog had wandered into a dark place, and it clutched on to him like a hand. The hand still held on to him, not wanting to let go. For this reason, the dog ran. By now, she was terrified, her terrified suspicion growing like mold. The dog stopped in its tracks at the sight of a human, she recognized this human, but could not remember. The human had a worried look on his face. He let out a weak and fading smile. The dog felt something tug at his heart.

“Not another one, no, not you, Despair. Oh god. It’s me, Darren. Here, let me take you home, I promise I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Darren began to sob.

The dog looked at the human strangely, it could not remember. The dog noticed the rugged and torn clothes the human wore. Darren knew that the dog was cursed, in fact, this was a common occurrence for the town.

Darren noticed the dog looking at him strangely and realized she was already gone from reality. Darren looked at his right arm, holding a gun. He started to shake, and began to cry, for he knew what was to be done. He was a dog catcher, of sorts, so he had done it before, but this time it was his dog, not anyone else’s. He closed his eyes.

He aimed the gun to the confused dog and shot once. The dog was hit in the stomach, where she fell swiftly. Her body started to twitch, like a seizure, in the pain. Darren began to cry profusely. He shot the dog again, to stop the suffering.

He looked at the dog’s stomach and noticed something odd.

Despite having done this countless times, he had never really stopped to look at the dogs, however, this time he had.

It was swollen irregularly.

Terrified, Darren realized the dog was pregnant. Despair was pregnant. He stood there, inspecting the scene he caused.

“No…she was-damn it!” Darren would've continued to cry but his body wouldn't allow it, he looked away. The sun started to come up by now, forming lines on houses, and blinding Darren’s face. The sunlight hit him like a warm blanket. His red eyes refused to blink. Darren thought this as a punishment, for doing an act so wrong. His pain didn't even compare.

Darren looked over at his gun, and back at the sun. It was a beautiful sight. He clutched the gun tightly, becoming angry as thoughts invaded his mind.

He aimed the gun at his head, and positioned it so the weapon hit the side of his head. The cold metal brushed his face.

It was a beautiful sight indeed.