Your Story 62 has posted the top five winners. As I was not one of them, I am now free to share my story with you. As a quick reminder, the story rules were:
Write a short story, of 750 words or fewer, that begins with the following sentence: I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over. You can be funny, poignant, witty, etc.; it is, after all, your story.
You can check out the top five winners on Writer’s Digest and vote for the one you think should win. I cast my vote for: Patience. My entry, and this week’s blog post is below:
I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over. The way she looked at me, shame and embarrassment all over her face, I knew I was wrong. The way she was feeling was all my fault. I’d put her on display for everyone to see and she was humiliated. I, on the other hand, was being applauded for her efforts. I’d talked about her as if she wasn’t there, as if she didn’t know what was happening as everyone watched. And I was so showy. I practically paraded her around in front of the group of them. Her trust in me has always been boundless and I can’t say that I have ever really felt like I deserved it. Not like that.
I’ve certainly gotten better over the years. I am more attentive, more loving. In fairness, we have both grown with time, though she certainly needed less training than I did. There are days I’m barely able to care for myself, let alone the rest of the house. A few days ago, Leo escaped; he loves to run in the yard; but he’s not allowed out there alone because the road is so close. I didn’t even notice he was gone until she leapt up, running with such intensity I couldn’t fathom where she was headed so quickly. I hadn’t even noticed he’d left. I felt utterly useless that day.
I forget to eat, I drink too much coffee, I don’t keep a schedule of any kind, and all along she stays by my side. I’ve always tried to treat her well. Punishment is not something I have to dole out often, as the guilt she feels when she’s disobeyed a direct order is often worse than anything I could imagine inflicting upon her. Though in truth, why she ever has listened to me – I can’t fathom. We both know she is the better one of our pairing. I am undisciplined. My moods range from sugary sweet to RedRum level screaming. Sometimes, a deep darkness sweeps through me, and in a way only she can, she senses it, comes to me, and lays by my side as I rage at the world in my mind.
She quiets me in ways I cannot describe. She is always in a good mood, despite the trappings of our lifestyle, and her lack of freedom to do as she wishes. She maintains a level of happiness and excitement that I envy daily. I can’t recall a time when she wasn’t cheerful or loving. Even after her surgery so many years ago, one I insisted she have, she was quiet, barely a complaint out of her where most would whine and moan. She has few friends, little Leo her closest companion aside from myself. She would make more friends if I let her, but she’s rarely out of my sight for more than a few minutes and the rare occasions I do let her wander on her own, she’s never far enough to get into a great deal of trouble.
I slid to the ground as she walked to me, slowly, head down, begging me to make it all end. I reached for her, the row of bows bright pink against the dark ring resting around her middle. I undid the snaps, one by one, relief flooding her little face. She spun in a circle as soon as she was undressed, and I was again, forgiven, instantly.
I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “My Princess Penelope, I’m so sorry; I promise, I’ll never put you in a tutu at the park again.”
Her tail wagged rapidly and her wet, black snout ran across my face. She really is the best dog ever.
I hope you enjoyed my take on the story prompt.
Your writing homework: Go to Writer’s Digest and vote for one of the entries for any contest, it’s important to support your writing community.
Saturday: The Spark, your weekly writing prompt, will update tomorrow. Come back next Friday for a new blog post!
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