Young Writers Society

The dog stiffened as the shot plunged its way into its body. Giving out a low howl, the animal sagged to the ground, motionless.

The man shook his head and walked towards it. Dead as a door nail. He carefully carried the corpse and put it in a plastic bag before tossing it in the river. Looking sadly at the clear, running waters, he trudged his way back to the ranch. Bobby had been his best pal ever since it grew up as a pup. Now, his day has ended and needed to move on.

"Shouldn't have done it", the man muttered.

He paused at the sight of the cabin with the fires glowing brightly. Oh, how he wished that he could turn back time and told his mom how much he loved her. Back then, he was a selfish brat and left his mother for a job in the North. He remembered how she cried and tried to persuade him to stay home but he ignored her. Waving farewell, his dreams for better opportunities were soon to be but hopeless. His mother died soon after and he was left to work at a stupid ranch.

"Norman!"

He looked up to see a stout man beckoning him for dinner.

"Coming", he yelled.

Picking up his pace, he approached the cabin and entered. Inside, his pals were already getting ready to eat.

"About done there. We though you didn't have the heart to do it", one man commented.

"Had to do it, Robert. That old dog isn't any good now. It's better if he died as soon as possible."

They all laughed but Norman felt as if pins were pricking his heart. He sat down and stuffed tons of food down his mouth. His friends looked astonished at his mighty appetite.

"Something wrong, Norman?", Robert asked.

"Nothing. I just had a rough day."

All of them continued to eat. Night fell and the men rested on their pallets. The fire was still burning. Norman tossed and turned in his sleep and his eyes soon flew open. Glancing around, he noticed that his friends were still asleep. Cautiously slipping out the back door, Norman made his way towards the river.

There, he cried and lamented over the dog. He told how sorry he was and how much he would miss it. Spotting rays of light rising, Norman quickly ran to the cabin and changed before the men woke up.

Ranch work labored soon after. Each man worked restlessly throughout the day with only one lunch break. Norman had trouble concentrating on his task. His buddy, Robert could sense that he was off task a bit.

"Are you all right?"

Norman looked up at him.

"Yeah. I said I was all right before. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing."

A week passed and by now everybody at the ranch noticed how much Norman had changed. He stopped eating, visited the river often, and wrote endlessly in his journal. Somehow, he always found something to do by himself and rarely joined the group conversations.

One day, Robert remarked, "Something is definitely wrong with Norman. He never eats, rarely sleeps, and keeps his distance from all of us."

The others nodded.

Suddenly, the door burst open and there stood Norman, looking excited and frantic.

"Look guys!" He pointed to ground behind him. "It's there, it's there. My boy, Bobby has come back!"

All of the men looked confused. Nothing was to be seen.

"What are you talking about Norman?"

He still pointed to the ground.

"My boy Bobby is there. I see him. He's real, I mean really real."

They still tried to squint their eyes to see what he was trying to tell but it was of no use.

"You're talking crazy, man."

At that comment, Norman's eyes turned in rage.

"What are you saying, Robert. That dog is right there. It's real."

"No, it isn't Norman. There's nothing there. Am I right, men?"

The rest nodded in unison.

Norman's face was now becoming bright red with rage. He took a step forward and grabbed Robert's collar.

"I ain't talking anything crazy here. The dog is a dog and it was right here."

Mortified, Robert tried to calm down his friend but it was of no use.

"Easy there, man. I'm only trying to tell the truth."

"No you're not! I'm telling the plain truth and you're not listening nor looking at what I'm pointing to. Don't you hear me!"

The men crowded around Norman and Robert, trying to break up the fight.

Norman's hand slid to Robert's throat and he squeezed tighter and tighter, leaving Robert to struggle for breath.

"Lemme go", he breathed out.

"Not unless you say that I'm telling the truth", Norman responded.

As his other pals tried to tug Norman away, his grip was deadly and dangerous.

Just as he was about to strangle his poor friend, a shot rang out and instantly, Norman fell to the floor. The group separated and there stood a shadow from the back door with a smaller figure next to him. It looked just like Norman's dog, Bobby.