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Snarling Thunder

by AspiringAuthorA..M.


*Wrote this with my annoying roommate constantly nagging in the background* :)

Snarling Thunder

Thunder roared in my hand and it jerked back, making me cringe as the jolt of pain shot up my shoulder. The dog yelped and ran off, leaving a trail of blood. I looked down at the piece of metal in my hand. Before tossing it into a bush, I whirled around. No one had seen what had happened, but I knew they had to have heard it. I swear that the gun was only a toy. Why else would it have been lying in the dead leaves in the woods?

Life often turns out inverted for me, but, somehow, things turn out right, and the mistakes help me choose correctly the next time. The dog I had shot, it turns out, would not be missed. In fact, it was a stray that had been killing chickens and other small animals through out the country side. It had even attacked a boy like me who was walking home from where the bus dropped him off. But still, I had no idea that the gun I had found was real. Of course I knew it felt real. Too real, really.

When I went into the house my mom grabbed me by the arm, slammed the door shut, locked it and dragged me to a closet. She whispered for me to be quiet while she would call the police. Having heard stories about what the police did to people with guns, I cried. Too my surprise, my mom crouched down and hugged me, saying everything would be okay. But that wasn't what shocked me. It was what she whispered.

“There's someone out there, but maybe it's only a hunter,” she said.

I knew what a hunter was from the movie Bambi. I bit my lips, tears glazing my eyes, making my mom hazy. I had to tell her, but I was too scared. She let go of me and started to close the closet before I sprang up, catching it.

“It was me! I shot a dog!” I said.

I remember how she stared at me, like she hadn't even heard what I said. But then her lips started trembling. I thought she was going to cry. However, instead she asked, “Where did you get a gun from?”

I told her and her face went to a window looking out into the backyard. “No one here owns a gun,” she said, embracing me and saying how glad she was that I was okay.

No one owned a gun. That was right. Not my dad or my brothers. So who did it belong to? I never found out, but my m

om did call the cops. Meanwhile they were driving over, me and my mom hid in the closet. It wasn't so scary, because she was there, whispering fables that she had memorized. But still, I couldn't help but feel like a monster. I had shot a dog, which was probably dead now. As bad as it was it didn't deserve to die.

My mom could tell I wasn't feeling good. She asked what was wrong. I could have laughed. No matter how young I was, I wasn't dumb. Why should I feel fine after I fired a gun, hit something and on top of it all, there may be a man wandering around the woods? Childhood, I was told, was a place where everything was perfect.

And I believed my parents, because I could tell that being an adult wasn't as glamorous as other kids said it was. No rules, driving, no school and everything else. None of that, however, seemed to make my parents feel any better when money was sometimes hard to come by. It was as much as a fantasy to them as dragons and ninja turtles were to me. They were memorizing, but they weren't real. And what wasn't real was of no use in life.

It could have been hours before we heard cars pull up our snaking driveway, but I didn't care. My mom opened the closet door, telling me to stay put while she went to check things out. When she came back she asked me to come along with her. I did and stared at the floor when I saw the man in uniform at the front door. He asked me some strange questions. One was where I had found the gun, another was about what color it was and where I had put my fingers on.

It was a rough day, and so were the following days. More questions were asked of me and my finger prints were taken. Strangers stopped by, thanking me for saving there animals. That wasn't the weirdest part, though. It was the old man with the eye patch and cane with a snake head that I found most bizarre. He told me that he was sorry.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked him. I had, after all, killed his pet. Mr. Wilkins, that was his name, said that he should have called animal control a long time ago, but had instead tried to his dog himself. It had rabies, he told me. I knew what that was, so I should have guessed that much by the way the dog had snarled at me, snapping madly.

Before Mr. Wilkins left, he gave my mom some money for what he said was thanks for my service to him as well as to everyone else. It turned out that the dog did more than just kill animals, it had destroyed crops, including ours, crippling that seasons growth a bit. Within time, though, fruits and vegetables started to grow again. But before all that happened, the gun that I had found was examined and was found to not only have my finger prints, but those of a man who had robbed several houses around the countryside.

He had never killed anybody, but still, the fact that he had a gun was bad enough. I was never told why the thief could have dropped his gun, but I didn't care. Being so close to trouble that could have turned out much worse if I had decided to play cops and robbers with mom, using the gun I found. It was only chance that the dog had come along and become a tragic sacrifice during that dawn.

No matter how dire circumstances can get, bleeding internally with pessimism will get you nowhere. Simply let time make progress before you believe that your life has reached a turning point for the worse. That same turn could be one into unexpected redemption. And with that redemption which was not sought after, the choices lying ahead will reveal many more results. As long as the decisions are analyzed, things will always turn out fine.


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9 Reviews

Points: 1672
Reviews: 9

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Thu Sep 09, 2010 10:56 pm
Drago101 wrote a review...



Hello, I'd like to review your story.

I thought it was interesting. It was a little boring, but interesting none the less. I thought it was well written. However, one sentence bugged me.

I bit my lips, tears glazing my eyes, making my mom hazy.


It just doesn't read right. The wording makes it seem like his tears are affecting his mom on a personal level, when it should be visual.

Overall I felt that it was well told, but it didn't really get me thinking. In other words, it was enjoyable but did not affect me as a reader.




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42 Reviews

Points: 1408
Reviews: 42

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Thu Sep 09, 2010 10:42 pm
LiveLaughLove wrote a review...



This was really good. I'm not going to nitpick, so no worries. I leave that in the hands of the pros. Don't have much to say other than that. Just thought that you should know how good it is. =) Keep writing!

Sierra :mrgreen:





No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
— John Donne