The Man and His Dog (short story) (1 page only!)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Less than one page length! Please read... Cynthia Miller goes on an afternoon stroll, hoping to get to know her new neighbor and his loyal companion until she learns the man is not who she thought he was. Not scary, I'd say, but I'm afraid I'll give it away! (: A story about loyalty and how nothing is how it seems.

Submitted: February 22, 2013

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Submitted: February 22, 2013




The Man and his Dog

The warm sun beat down on the man, the man, clutching the leash tightly. He walked small steps, very carefully as his dog walked by his side and occasionally stopped to leave his mark. The man would stop as well, waiting for his companion.

I followed them, trying to catch up, but summer’s heat made me quite weary. The man had just moved into the neighborhood, and I was anxious to meet him. The dog turned and looked, with ears propped high as he watched me walk forward. Then, he continued along the rocky path.

The man was old, his hair, a snowy white. He wore a short sleeve polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, along with flip flops.  His dog, golden hair, it almost seemed luminous and glowing when in the sun, by my guess, I’d say it’s a golden retriever.

Suddenly, the man stumbled over some pebbles he must’ve not seen, and his dog quickly came to his rescue, making sure he was okay. The dog kissed his face as he slowly stood up, very gentle. “I’m okay Birdie. I’m okay.” The man reassured his retriever and patted her soft hair. I kept walking towards them as the two continued to stroll. Suddenly, overhead trees covered the path with shade, making the air cooler. For a moment, the afternoon chase seemed pleasant and relaxing. I stopped and shut my eyes for a moment; I smelled fresh dandelions growing within the weeds off to the side of the path. A cool, summer breeze waved through my long, brown hair.

Opening my eyes, staring ahead, the man and the dog had gotten farther than I thought they would. I started to sprint, out of the shadows and into the summer atmosphere. I ran until I passed them and stopped in my tracks, blocking their way. That was the first time I saw the man’s face; wrinkled, and old, but kind and gentle.

“Hello, sir,” I spoke to him.

“Who’s that?” He searched frantically behind him, to the side, and blankly, stared forward. The dog sat down to take a rest.

“Don’t you see me?” I waved in front of him, and came closer to shake his hand, and introduce myself. “I’m Cynthia. Cynthia Miller.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked confused. “I’m your neighbor.” I tried to explain further. His hand started to reach around him, trying to find his dog to pet.

“Birdie, you see something?” He asked his pup.

“Mr., don’t you see me?” I was confused, until I finally realized. The man was blind. 


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