Blindumb

I can start this with saying cliched things like those in the books my master reads to me. “...The owls were howling in the distant night sky. It was the time of night when the people were either sound asleep or drunk in some pub in downtown Washington.” But I prefer to get to the point.

I was there. In my normal place. Sleeping, with my head tilted on the side and leaning on my paws. That’s when I heard him approaching. The familiar noise of his footsteps. Of his affluent, Armani footwear. Tip tap tip tap. Near. Nearer. Nearest. Far. Further. Furthest. He had walked into our room and turned away. Assuming that I was of no harm. I followed the echo of his tiptapping. He was walking towards the other end of the hallway, straight for the library. I wanted to follow the Echoes, track him down. Catch him Red-handed. Prove to my master that he was not a trustworthy man. But I was tied. With the leash around my neck, and the handle in my master’s hand, for his own security. Not that I didn’t like being held by him. In fact, I felt Honored to give him a vision, to help him look at the world through my eyes. My tiny dog eyes. But at that moment, I needed to be free. I needed to see what the man was up to with my own eyes before I inform my master. But since I couldn’t rip the leash, I considered waking up my master.

He was sleeping with ease on his highraised bed. Looking at him then, I felt rather close to him. Physically close. He was a short man, his skin aging with time. His clothes hopelessly eke-ing to cling to his body. His body seemed non-existant under the thick layers of blankets. I really didn’t want to disturb him, but I was desperate. I nudged. That is to say, I moved my neck away from him so he would feel a tug at his wrist. He was a man of silent talking and slow movements. He opened his eyes. I could see that through his dark glasses. I got up and ran as further away as I could, hardly a few meters away from the bed. “What’s the matter, Briley?” he asked, in his usual monotone. I tried to run further, but couldn’t. I didn’t want to bark, and warn the man. He understood. Got his stick and stood up. The tips and taps had stopped then.

I was in such a limbo in the hallway. To go fast. I would catch the man but my master would lose balance. To go slow. My master would keep up but I would lose the man. I decided to go slow. Medium. We reached the door of the library. I stopped, he stopped. I listened, he listened. A strip of white light illuminated under the door, Swooshing noises. Whirring book pages. Thudding books shut. Books sliding on the floor.

My master pushed the door open with the end of his stick. He could see no one. But I saw no one as well. Just lights bright. Books littering the floor. Drawers revealing their contents. Windows shut. Not a sound. My master tugged at the band, indicating that I had made a mistake. But I knew he was there. He had to be. He couldn’t have gone anywhere. I lead him hastily behind the shelves. Behind the door. No one. I stared around. A thick ribbon of moonlight sparkled the floor. How is that possible? Doesn’t the maid always draw the curtains before she leaves? I steered him to the curtains and pawed them aside. There he was.

Bark. Bark. Anger. Bark. Bark. Pride. He was the same man, I had thought it was. The last time I saw him was last week. He had rang the bell at sharp 2 - the exact time for which the two of them had arranged the meeting. I was sitting by my master’s leg while he was reading his Braille novels. As soon as the bell had rung, he stood up with a sudden jump. Being a slow walking, cautious man, that sudden movement I thought would have been too much for his body to take. But he stood there, back bent into a perfect parabola, like he was going to wobble over the stick but head sticking out strong. He was waiting for me to lead, which I proudly did. My master felt across the brass doors to the impatient knobs and pulled it out of way. Introduction: A tall, sturdy man with broad shoulders. His face was rather manly, with a prominent Adam’s Apple and a nose risen high in the air. High enough to define his strong built ego. He was dressed in the same attire back then as well. All Black. Black suit. Black Armani shoes. Black bag. I had an eerie feeling about him since then.

A quick handshake. Short conversation. Perhaps too short for a step father and son meeting after 3 years.

The three of us went to the living room, lead by me. They had settled down comfortably. My master on the milky white armchair. Him on the black leather sofa. I stayed there crouched at the comfort of my master’s feet, with my ears perched up. Trying to listen carefully to every word that was uttered. And still, my memory fails me.

My master orders two cups of coffee.
“It must be difficult to be living alone,” the man paused awkardly. “Sleeping alone.”
“I’m still not alone, George. Briley is here with me," my master ascertained.
“Except he can’t seduce you enough.”
“Those days are over, George. You know that. I’m not like that anymore.”
“One advantage for losing eyes, eh.”
Long awkward silence.
“.... police security 24/7..... safe in a big mansion” - my master’s voice.
“... maybe too big for the two of you...” - George’s voice.
“... I’m a changed man... but I did love your mother...” - my master’s voice.
“... loved too many girls..” - George’s voice
“.. I still have her letters stored away in the library...” - my master’s voice.
Maid comes with two cups of coffee.

“Is there anyone, Briley?” my master asked, breaking into my memory and making me aware of the danger that haunted the library. George looked indifferent. I stared into his eyes and found something unusual. Something I perhaps should have knew. Confusion. He didn’t expect me to be of any harm. After all, I’m just a four legged creature, speechless and helpless. But my master will give my thoughts a voice, will help me speak to the world through his lips. Soon, his eyes widened, with anger and revenge. “What did the two of you think, huh? That you could just get away with it?” George shouted ruthlessly. My master also realized who it was and pulled up his stick, pushing his step son right at his heart. “I thought we decided to start anew that day”, my master asserted. George grabbed the stick and jerked it toward him. My master fell forward, but stayed on his feet. No. I had to do something. He was coming for my master again. This time from the back. “That’s what you thought, you fool. You will never get away with what you did to my mother.” George claimed. And hit my master with the stick right in the back of the brain. My master withered to the floor, with a morose thud. No. I had to do something. I gnawed at the man’s Armani shoes and the end of his pants. There was a sudden hesitance in his movement. Once again, he thought I was of no harm. “Get off, you!” Bark. “Just because your master is blind does not mean he is innocent!” George was frustrated and tried to shove me away with the stick. Enough time for my master to stand up again. But facing the wrong side. Bark. Bark. My master turned around. Face to Face once again. My master’s back leant over in a perfect parabola. George’s was upstraight. “Don’t you dare do anything to the dog. He has got nothing to do with it!” my master asserted, with a croaky voice. Oh how I loved him then. “He actually does have something to do with it, he is complicit. He is the creature to help a flippin’ lothario like you in trouble!” I was scared of George then. It was going to be the night I dreaded all my life, all 35 dogyears of my life.

I remembering staring at his bag, trying to imagine what he had with him that time. A knife? A rope?... A gun. I felt Desperate. Desperately Curious. Ideas were running through my head. How do I save my master? How do I do it all Alone? I looked around. Carefully. For any escape. He put the gun to my master’s head. A glimpse of Rostam and Sohrab came to my mind. Two characters from my master’s initial books. I’d have preferred to be dead than keep my eyes open.

I pawed the lights off. Nothing.

Daily Mirror, Issue 251. Headlines: Dog saves the day, Blind master escapes gunpoint.

Hello, iWrite. Hope you're enjoying yourself! I noticed that you have three works posted but no reviews-- trust me, you'll get more reviews the more you review. Just pick out a piece and give the author your general opinions on it.

I can start this with saying cliched things like those in the books my master reads to me. “...The owls were howling in the distant night sky. It was the time of night when the people were either sound asleep or drunk in some pub in downtown Washington.” But I prefer to get to the point.

Ironically, saying this is somewhat cliched. It's actually kind of unoriginal for a story to open with the narrator saying that they're going to go ahead and dive right in. If you want to introduce the character with something witty or clever, that's fine, but this doesn't work, at least not for me.

My tiny dog eyes.

I really like the subtlety you've used up to this point. You mention a leash, a master, paws-- all discreet ways of letting the reader know the narrator's identity. But this line, I felt, was too obvious. Give us some credit! If we haven't picked up the clues you've laid so far, we're not paying enough attention. Cut this.

When the exchange of dialogue comes around, I don't see the reason for the ellipses, the (...)s. If it's to symbolize the awkward, lilting pauses, it's unnecessary because you've already mentioned the long silences and readers can glean that the conversation is rather uncomfortable anyway.

And stabbed my master right in the back of the brain.

The term "stabbed" indicates a knife, but that's not the case here, is it? He's using the master's walking stick. And the way this is described I figured that the wound was fatal-- being stabbed in the back of the brain is no picnic. But the master isn't even knocked unconscious.

He put the gun to my master’s head. A glimpse of Rostam and Sohrab came to my mind. Two characters from my master’s initial books. I’d have preferred to be dead than keep my eyes open.

I pawed the lights off. Nothing.

I'm a little confused as to what's going on here. George puts a gun to master's head, and then Briley flips the light-switch to turn off the lights? How does that save his master? Who are these characters, and what do they have to do with the master's books? Here the description was a little bare to adequately explain the climax. What happened?

Overall

All in all, this was quite enjoyable! I felt like the style you chose, having that fragmented, helter-skelter narration to fit the perspective of an animal, was very well done. I liked the choppy flow-- gave me the image of this dog, looking around in black and white, halfway-thoughts running through his head. I do feel, however, that you could have done a bit more with this. The style was the most apparent towards the middle, but I think if you applied the fragments a bit more to the beginning and end it would feel better rounded.

One thing I noticed was that you used pretty random capitalization. You'd capitalize words mid-sentence that didn't have any apparent special meaning. It was distracting and I'm not sure what it's purpose was, but I'd suggest you just remove the excess capitals.

That last big paragraph at the end needs to be broken up, as well. Whenever a new line of dialogue starts, start a new paragraph. Whenever you're focusing on a fresh action or fresh thought, start a new paragraph. Keeps things manageable. ^_^

Good job, keep writing, and PM me for anything!

~Evi

If you meant to or not, you gave this story a very detached air to it through all the choppiness, which I really liked. It made it seem like it were actually a dog telling the story.

Near the beginning, you have random capitalization. Not sure if that was meant or not, just thought I would point out out nevertheless.

You make it confusing at points. You might want to clarify that in the middle when the dog is remembering his master and son meeting after three years that it is indeed just a memory, not the current events. It took me a while to realize this.

The ending is also just one gigantic paragraph. It needs to be broken up. At one point, you say the master is stabbed in the back of the head. Not quite sure how it turns out that he isn't killed through that. The ending was very confusing, so the dog turns the lights out and then what? The master escapes? How?

Although having said all of that, the underline of the newspaper headline was perfect. I think that you not explaining how the master escapes actually fits in to make that so good.

With some revision, this could be really good. I enjoyed reading it

The owls were howling in the distant night sky.

Owls don't howl, they hoot.

I really liked the plot of the story, but I think it was a little confusing. It was hard when we didn't know who, "He," was in the story. It was also confusing because when people talked, it was hard to tell who was talking because you didn't say sometimes. A lot also happened that I didn't really follow. Like the master being stabbed in the brain, and then standing back up. Wouldn't the master be dead?

Evi, thanks a ton for your detailed review.
The starting was somewhat intended to be ironic.
You're right actually, I shouldn't have mentioned the dog eyes. I guess I just wanted to make sure that the reader is on the right track. I guess they are! I shall get rid of it.
The "...." in the conversation was more to show the unreliability and un-preciseness of the dog's memory than the awkwardness.
The questions you asked about the end are completely justifiable. I intended to have a cliffhanger, leaving you'll to interpret or imagine the rescue yourselves. (also because I ran out of imagination, myself!)

Hey madhatter58,
Thanks for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed it. The capitalization is actually intentional. It is inspired by this author, Arundhati Roy who capitalizes words in the middle of a sentence for emphasis. This was my first attempt to copy her style. And you're right, I have made it confusing. I shall take the time and make it clearer soon.

And the word "stab" really needs to be changed. I guess I was referring to the motion of stabbing rather than actually the effect you get from a stab. Now I realize how diction can be so important! Once again, your questions about the end are for you to answer because I kind of got stuck there myself.
Once again, thanks for your feedback.

max8537, I completely understand your opinion. I didn't clarify some of the things enough (who is speaking, is it still a memory or not, etc.). I will try and improve on it. With the conversation especially, I was trying to write it like in the novels where there is just a dialogue without any names mentioned about who is saying it. It obviously didn't work with me.

And yeah, the word "stab" needs to be changed. Now when I read it again, it doesn't make sense to me either!
Thanks for your review

Hi

I did feel like this story was rather brisk, but I love the choppiness--it gives you a lot more flexibility and I think it clarifies very quickly that the narrator is not human. As we get more detail, it is very quickly apparent that the narrator is a dog, and I think you could definitely (as was said) remove a few of the more obvious references to this.

I am particularly partial to the ending, but I think the argument between George and his stepfather is particularly confusing. This is perhaps because you have altered your perspective so well, creating this persona (the dog) and using only that, but I think here it should be more clearly defined. It seems rushed.

Also, the only other thing that tripped me up was the seduction...it took me a moment to understand that you were referring to the man's taste in women, rather than in dogs (if that makes sense).

Overall, I really like this piece a lot!

Shepherd, your review was very honest and true.
You are very right in that it was rushed, I did get to a writer's block half way through the story. You really have a very good eye, the seduction part went unnoticed by everyone that read it so far. I shall make that more clear.

I'm glad you'll enjoyed it. The response to a story is more important than the story itself!
Thanks for your help.