Just as you sit in your chair, a young boy, Matt walks into a still, dark wood. No moon casts its glow. No wind stirs a rough branch. Clouds, oozing a grim rain, dull Matt's spirit. A dark mood haunts this wood, hushing all sound and all souls.
Soon, Matt turns to spy a small animal. It is a small, brown dog, soaking in rain. Curious, Matt stops to think. Approach an odd, dripping dog, or stay away? Both thoughts could withstand logic. Any animal in such a disturbing wood might attack or bring horrid luck. But still, a pitiful, unassuming animal, such as this dog, might want to gain a way out of frightful, dripping prison of wood just as much as Matt.
"It is a good thought," Matt says out loud. "I will grant this dog a way out of such a wood as this."
But just as Matt was walking forward, this dog starts to look right into Matt, into his soul. A chill runs down Matt's back, into his skin, through his stomach, down into his hands.
"What is this dog doing?" Matt thinks. "Is it going to attack? Or is it attacking right now? A soul-bandit, coming to lift my spirit from my brain and body?"
This dog stands. Its right foot shifts awkwardly, as if it is too busy with its own plan to comply with this dog's commands. A horror girps Matt's stomach at this unnatural sight. This dog is awful, odd, pitiful in a most off-putting way.
"I must not stay in this wood," Matt says to this still wind. "This dog has it in for my soul. I will not last if I stay. I must go, now."
Matt starts to turn his back to this dog, but thinks again. Turning his back to this soul-capturing animal is not a solution. Matt must go without giving this dog an opportunity. Still, Matt knows that a loss of his soul might also follow from looking straight at this dog.
Matt has a plan. Matt will shut his lids and back away slowly, with a hand at his back to touch this passing brush. Matt will go with no sight and no sound, only touch. This dog might not follow. Matt starts to want that most of anything in his world. To go away without this dog at his back--or his front.
Matt follows his plan, backing up for hours, not using his sight at all.
At long last, no brush skims Matt's hands, and this fright slowly drains from Matt's mind. Sight is not wrong now. Matt should lift his lids and look. No dog should follow. Matt's soul will stay in his body.
Matt looks.
No dog did follow him. Matt scans this horizon for a disturbing animal, but nothing is lurking. Matt sighs and starts to think that dog is history, for today, and for always.
So Matt thinks.
Soon, Matt turns to spy a small animal. It is a small, brown dog, soaking in rain. Curious, Matt stops to think. Approach an odd, dripping dog, or stay away? Both thoughts could withstand logic. Any animal in such a disturbing wood might attack or bring horrid luck. But still, a pitiful, unassuming animal, such as this dog, might want to gain a way out of frightful, dripping prison of wood just as much as Matt.
"It is a good thought," Matt says out loud. "I will grant this dog a way out of such a wood as this."
But just as Matt was walking forward, this dog starts to look right into Matt, into his soul. A chill runs down Matt's back, into his skin, through his stomach, down into his hands.
"What is this dog doing?" Matt thinks. "Is it going to attack? Or is it attacking right now? A soul-bandit, coming to lift my spirit from my brain and body?"
This dog stands. Its right foot shifts awkwardly, as if it is too busy with its own plan to comply with this dog's commands. A horror girps Matt's stomach at this unnatural sight. This dog is awful, odd, pitiful in a most off-putting way.
"I must not stay in this wood," Matt says to this still wind. "This dog has it in for my soul. I will not last if I stay. I must go, now."
Matt starts to turn his back to this dog, but thinks again. Turning his back to this soul-capturing animal is not a solution. Matt must go without giving this dog an opportunity. Still, Matt knows that a loss of his soul might also follow from looking straight at this dog.
Matt has a plan. Matt will shut his lids and back away slowly, with a hand at his back to touch this passing brush. Matt will go with no sight and no sound, only touch. This dog might not follow. Matt starts to want that most of anything in his world. To go away without this dog at his back--or his front.
Matt follows his plan, backing up for hours, not using his sight at all.
At long last, no brush skims Matt's hands, and this fright slowly drains from Matt's mind. Sight is not wrong now. Matt should lift his lids and look. No dog should follow. Matt's soul will stay in his body.
Matt looks.
No dog did follow him. Matt scans this horizon for a disturbing animal, but nothing is lurking. Matt sighs and starts to think that dog is history, for today, and for always.
So Matt thinks.
~Stphani
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