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Summer

canislupis · 2007-07-29T23:45:23Z

I sit on the front porch, feeling the warmth of Summer’s breath on my leg. Any warmth is welcome in the early morning chill. I reach my hand out to feel the back of Summer’s head. He licks my hand, making a smile appear on my face for the first time in days. Summer has always been there to comfort me, when I am sad or worried. His big head rests in my lap, and I breathe in his warm scent while staring into his huge, moist brown eyes. Then I look up at the huge oak tree, behind which the sun is making its first feeble attempt to pass the line of the horizon. The light seems strange, very golden and unrealistic, like a cartoon representation. The first wave of heat passes over me, and with its stimulation come the memories. I feel the sadness that I have felt so many times in the past month, thinking of him, remembering him….He is drifting away now, and though I try to hold on it is too late, and already I am starting to wake up. I sit up groggily, and push my matted hair away from my bloodshot eyes. The darkness behind my curtain tells me that it must be before dawn. I had been dreaming again. A fresh wave of sadness washed over me as I remembered. I felt hot water dripping down my cheek, and I realize that I am crying. He is gone, and he will never again comfort me in my saddest times. I lift my hand and stare at it. I could still almost feel the fur beneath my hand as I remembered caressing the golden coat. A shrill bark disrupts my reverie. It is Bouncy, our new dog. His name is very fitting, just as Summer’s was. I wipe my eyes before reaching down to stroke the tiny head which has come running into my room. Bouncy excitedly put his front paws on my lap and licked my face. In spite of myself, I smile slightly. I pick up the jeans that are lying on the floor as a result of my casually flinging them of last night. They haven’t been washed for a month, but I don’t care. These jeans were the last things Summer touched before, well, before….. I will not think of it, because if I do I know I will start crying again, and my eyes will not handle it. Bouncy jumps up on my lap again, whining annoyingly. I fall back on the bed, my eyes following a spiderweb-like design of cracks on the ceiling. With an superhuman effort I get up and wander aimlessly into the bathroom that I share with my sister. She has left toothpaste all over the counter, again. That never used to bother me, but it does now. Suddenly I feel confined and claustrophobic in the tiny bathroom, and I feel I must get outside. Bouncy follows me as I tiptoe past my family’s bedrooms, trying my best not to wake them. I cannot resist looking in at my parents, still sleeping peacefully. They were not affected by Summer’s death as badly as I was. It seems so much longer since he died than it really has been. I still remember the last day. I push my thoughts away and run down the stairs, out through the door, and when I pass the steps I pause, trying to remember the last snippets of my dream that are still floating around my conscience. I try to bring it back together, but it is too far gone. I quickly stop myself as the memories are starting to creep back. Without thinking about it I start to run. It has started to rain softly, and little bits of icy cold hit my face with full force as I propel myself forward. I find myself being carried into the small grove of trees that serves as the house’s last protection against the biting wind that sometimes tore through the trees from the hills beyond. I run through and right past them, going faster and faster as I tried to outrun my memories. I finally throw myself down on a clump of grass. I am completely exhausted; the many sleepless nights are finally getting to me. I will not, and cannot outrun the pain any more. I let the memories flood over me, taking comfort in the swishing of the grass which is the only plant life for miles around. The rain splashed on my upturned face, but it didn’t feel biting any more. It felt soothing and refreshing, and helped me to cope with the insistent feeling. I remembered running with Summer through this field, the wind blowing in our faces and the feeling of exhilaration strongly radiating from our faces. I remembered the shot being fired, far away, terrifying Summer. He had broken away from me, and ran far away, to where I couldn’t follow. Of course, it wasn’t really like that. There had been long hours of pain and worry, waiting in the animals hospital, and the last time was when he laid his gigantic head on my lap to fall asleep for the last time. I still like to think of the time when we were running through the field as the last time we were really together. He was the only one I was comfortable with, since I have never been comfortable around other humans. I have no friends, and though my family loves me, and I love them back, they are afraid of me. All of the humans that I have ever met are. At first I didn’t understand, since when I look in a mirror, I look the same as everybody else. But I guess they could sense that I wasn’t like them. I didn't understand other humans, the way the manipulated and lied. Summer was different. I never felt the need to tell him anything, and he understood what I wanted without my saying or doing anything. From him I learned to read the expressions and body language of others. It had been a trait which had come in useful in many cases. But then he had left me, and I would never see him again. I had stood up without realizing it, and was shredding a bit of grass between my twitching fingers. Suddenly a wave of excitement and joy washes over me, all reason forgotten as I see Summer, bounding towards me across the field. I almost faint with joy before the rational side of my brain kicks in. He’s dead, I tell myself, and he didn’t come back. But there he was, standing on the top of the hill closest to me. There is sadness in his eyes, but also joy and wildness. He steps cautiously up to me, and puts his nose in my hand. It feels warm, but also insubstantial. Suddenly, he is disappearing. I reach out to touch him once more, but with fear I realize that my hand and arm, clutching tightly to his scruff, are vanishing along with him. I pull back, but it is too late. I am being pulled with him. I land on my feet, standing in a glade of trees unlike any which I have seen before, they are all green and waxy, and have a sharp refreshing smell, unlike the broad leafed and smelly trees of my land. A word pops into my head unbidden. Pine. I realize with a jolt that Summer is standing next to me, his body seeming somehow larger than usual. He seems to be smiling at me. “You left me!” I said accusingly. “Where have you taken me?” His doggy smile fades, and his golden face becomes serious. He looks again at the ground, covered in needles from the surrounding trees. I see the ground becoming transparent again; I see my house, the field behind it, the woods, and the firing range where Summer lost his life eating lead off the ground. I realize that he is offering me the chance to go back. But I can’t go back, not when he is going to stay here. I know in my heart that I belong here, and always have. I shake my head, but as it usually is with Summer, it is unnecessary. Before I start to speak, the portal closes. Suddenly I find my body morphing. My hands lose their thumbs and they become fingerless and clawed. My legs shorten and my nose extends. I writhe on the ground in fear, my brain not yet accustomed to its new confines. Summer noses me gently and I stand up, rather shakily. I can hear water somewhere nearby. I run towards it, and look at my reflection. I am a beautiful dark brown dog, slightly smaller than Summer, with liquid gold eyes. I feel somehow that I do not require sustenance any more. I tilt my head up to the sky, which is a pure, deep blue, unlike the usual whitish grey of my old home. I can see mountains in the distance, capped with tiny looking dots of snow. I will climb them someday, with Summer. I have a feeling that I will be able to do whatever I want here, without the restraints of physical difficulties. I will be here forever, in this beautiful land. I have come Home.

onceuponatim3xo

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Mon Nov 05, 2007 10:03 pm

onceuponatim3xo says... · Mon Nov 05, 2007 10:03 pm

Very descriptive, I like it! But, in the beginning (maybe this is just me being brain dead, but) I thought that summer was the season and was extremely confused! You might want to sort that out, and make sure the reader knows that Summer is a dog. (I thought that it was the season, and that you were overly using personification.)

Very good!

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canislupis

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Fri Nov 09, 2007 5:44 pm

canislupis says... · Fri Nov 09, 2007 5:44 pm

Hah, I guess that is the problem with sharing a name with a season.

Any suggestions on how to clear it up?

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Twit

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Fri Nov 09, 2007 6:00 pm

Twit says... · Fri Nov 09, 2007 6:00 pm

Change the name? Or mention something that Summer did or whatever, in a way that is undubitably doggy.

"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this. We have you." -Abed Nadir

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onceuponatim3xo

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Sat Nov 10, 2007 5:25 am

onceuponatim3xo says... · Sat Nov 10, 2007 5:25 am

yeah, i agree with twit.

It is better to travel well than to arrive.
-Buddha

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canislupis

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Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:27 pm

canislupis says... · Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:27 pm

Hmm, thanks! I'll keep those suggestions in mind.

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What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
— J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Summer

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