exanimateMarigold felt bad.
There had been a raccoon in the yard. She liked when raccoons came to the yard, they puffed up big so big, but they ran ran ran when you chased them, and the noises they made were like birds or squirrels but bigger and more exhilarating. She had chased the raccoon, but the raccoon didn't run. Instead, it held its ground, and when she came close enough, it bit her on the shoulder, hard, teeth tearing skin and flesh and leaving only pain pain pain behind. Then she ran, she ran from the raccoon, and she had rolled in the dirt until the bleeding stopped, mud clotting the wound, pain pain pain muted a little behind the haze of her confusion. Then had come shame. Shame, because she would be called bad dog for chasing raccoons; bad dog for getting bitten when there were so many people in the house and yard and everything was strange.
So Marigold did what any good dog in fear of being termed a bad dog would do; she had gone to the hole in the back of the fence, the hole she and her brother worked and worried so long at, and slunk into the yard next door, where the boy lived. The boy laughed and pulled her ears sometimes, but it never hurt. The boy loved her. She knew the boy loved her, even as she knew the man and the woman fed her, and that she was a good dog, really, all the way to the heart of her. She was a good dog.
She was a good dog, but she felt so bad. So very bad. The badness had started with the bite, but it had spread since then, and now she could barely swallow, and the light was hurting her eyes so much, so very much. She lay huddled under the bushes, wishing she could find her feet, wishing she knew why she felt bad. So very bad.
Marigold felt hungry.
The hunger was a new thing, a strong thing, stronger even than the bad feeling that was spreading through her. She considered the hunger, as much as she could. She had never been the smartest of dogs, and her mind was getting fuzzy, thought and impulse giving way to alien instinct. She was a good dog. She just felt bad. She was a good dog. She was...she was...she was hungry. Marigold was hungry.
Something rustled through the bushes. The dog that had been a good dog, that had been Marigold, and that was now just hungry rose slowly, legs unsteady, but willing to support the body if there might be something coming that could end the hunger. The dog that had been a good dog, that had been Marigold, looked without recognition at the figure that parted the greenery and peered, curiously, down at it. The dog, which could not moan, growled low.
"Oggie?"
***
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When will you Rise?
May 31 2011, 05:47:28 UTC 6 years ago
How big was that raccoon? Or was the poor dog mistaken? I expected Philip' POV here so this was a surprise.
As awful it would be, are we going to see the Mason's discovering and dealing with this? You really have great fodder for a prequel with more stories of that summer and events right after.
Is there going to not be a Deadline audiobook? I just went to buy the ebook and it's not available till June 1. Apparently I will be going to Barnes and Noble as I am not waiting another day.
After reading all these entries, it;s cliche but, the road to hell is paved with good intentions (and sometimes more self-serving ones)
May 31 2011, 05:48:48 UTC 6 years ago
2) The e-Book may be delayed by a day; I don't know, I don't track those as closely.
May 31 2011, 13:22:31 UTC 6 years ago
May 31 2011, 14:59:28 UTC 6 years ago
May 31 2011, 15:43:31 UTC 6 years ago
I'll be twitching quietly in the corner until then...
May 31 2011, 16:09:22 UTC 6 years ago
*flailwailrailwail*
June 1 2011, 06:10:28 UTC 6 years ago
June 1 2011, 16:22:56 UTC 6 years ago
June 1 2011, 22:41:58 UTC 6 years ago
(Why do I have no zombie icons?? I guess this will have to do...)
June 2 2011, 01:27:58 UTC 6 years ago
And if you want a zombie icon, I can make that happen. My zombie icon is my own artwork. Get me a photo and give me two hours ;)