Okay...so I'd like to sign up. I love to write but am a bit rusty. Anyway, enjoy this
(semi what, just read it) realistic fiction. Everything is based on real events and researched. I apologize for the length, I just couldn't stop. It has over 10000 words...so have fun.
WARNING: Death, blood gore...lots of sensitive stuff. Not for a weak stomach!
Under Cover
Rain drums on the roof, a normal occurrence this time of year in Florida. Some of my fellow racers whine and whimper, scared and shivering in the cold. We are the noble breed of dog known as the Greyhound, once prized and valuable. Yet here we stand, starving, cold, and terrified.
Suddenly, a sliver of light peeks into the dark and musty kennel that I call home. I lift my head, hoping that I will be taken outside, away from the chaos and stench of the kennel. If Master, our owner, selected me to be taken out, there was a chance I would be injured. But at least I would be far, far away from the ramshackle shed.
I struggle to my feet, whimpering as I twitch in pain from an old back injury from my youthful days, not so long ago. I am only 2 years old, just out of puppy training and starting out on the racing roster. No one yet knows my name in the big world of greyhound racing, especially here in Florida. I doubt you know who I am either.
Let me introduce myself properly. I am Towla Celes Distinct Sophistication, or Sophie. I am descended from some of the Towla Kennels greatest racers, and I am expected to carry on the family tradition. I sport the unmistakable blue coat coloring of the Distinct family line, with a irregular splotch of white painted vividly onto my chest and four small, white mittens on my paws. At least, thats what I used to look like, before I was sold to the Celes kennel.
When I was a young puppy, I lived with my two brothers and three sisters, along with my mom, the great Towla Distinct Speed. I played with my siblings, frolicking and testing our legs, until we reached the young age of 10 weeks. I was taken away from the only place I had ever known and forced into a small crate that reeked from former occupants.
Once I reached the Celes facility, I was locked in a cramped and dusty wooden cage with barely enough room to turn around. There were no windows, and the air inside was stale. A dented green plastic bowl was stuffed in a corner, along with a leaky water dish. I gagged as I lapped up some of the cloudy water. It was vulgar! The few bits of tan food left in my bowl were no better. Resigning myself to this new life, I had tried my best to curl into a small heap on the cold, cement floor.
Once I was a few weeks older, I was introduced to the track. After a few training sessions, I realized that I was supposed to chase the fake decoy as it spun around the ring. But I did not progress as fast as some of the other trainees, and quickly fell behind. After one too many cruel punishments, I lost my spark and started to run slower, not accelerating to the speeds I once used to reach.
During a regular training session, shortly after my first birthday, I was running on a wet track, panting and exhausted. It was hot and humid, just after a streak of rainy days. As I rounded the second turn, I got out of control and slid into the fence, hard. I could barely stand, and after that day, I was forced to live in the reject barn, where the dogs who could still race low grade sprints and short races resided.
Now I stand at the front of my cruelly built prison, my snout thrust through the rusty wire. Heavy footsteps thud down the narrow aisle, a foreboding omen of what is yet to come. I can sense the fear in my cellmates. Some of my fellow inmates are cowering as far back in the corners as they can, yipping and growling, hiding from the furious beast looming above us, the one we call Master. In the racing world, he is known as Blake Jensonn, owner of the great Celes racing greyhounds and trainer extraordinaire.
With his gruff voice, he shouts out at us to be silent, only to have the ruckus start again. He mutters something under his breath and stalks to the back of our jail. Taking a handful of chain leads and wire muzzles off the wall, he turns and selects the first victim of the day.
Celes New Moon Magic, a lanky black male, is the first out of his kennel. Snarling, he tries to avoid the man shoving on the harsh steel contraption. Eventually, he is defeated, and slinks alongside Master. Next up is Nixi Celes Valley Girl Style, an aggressive fawn female who wears a muzzle at all time. She is soon raging at Master, who keeps her on a short length of chain. Master looks around the kennel, selecting the last dog to be taken out today to train.
His steely, cold grey eyes settle on yours truly. Stepping to the front of the kennel, I brace myself for the events ahead. With a deft flip of the hand, and a rattle of the cage door, it swings open, allowing me access to the walkway of our home. But I would never have any chance to escape. His hands are as big as a grizzly bears paws, and they roughly jam the wire muzzle onto my head, fastening the neck strap chokingly tight around my throat. Before I know it, the chain is snapped to the filthy collar that encircles my neck.
I exit the cramped confines of my cage, able to stretch my legs for the first time in 3 days. Style continues to snarl, but I dont blame her. We have known each other for a long time, and I know that her history is much worse than mine. Still, Master is not happy with her, and yanks her chain, causing her to fall over backwards, whimpering. I winced in pity for her, and then took my Masters side, following his wishes. I knew that I would be in for a miserable time if I disobey his orders.
As I paced alongside Master, we exited the ramshackle shed that we were confined too. The dirt was rough on my paws and the rain pelted my back as we rounded the house that Master lived in. As we covered more ground, I became more nervous. Soon we would be coming across the more accomplished dogs, who were the pride and joy of Master. They hated us, the weaklings who were as slow as snails. I braced myself for the upcoming insults.
Even as we walked by our captor, I admired the beauty of the facility. Sometimes I felt as if my eyes could melt from the gorgeous layout. Palm trees sprouted up from the manicured green grass, and we had reached the proper walkway, which was a carefully laid pattern of shining sea glass tiles. The rain softly fell on the perfectly trimmed red roses and exotic plants. Gorgeous marble arches curved over us, flowering vines winding up them. The main training barn was rustic, yet modern with its traditional shape and creative abstract paint. Gardens were visible in the distance, and a fountain sprayed a plume of water high into the air.
Moon grew visibly uncomfortable as we walked. He paced and tried to sit down to avoid going closer to the small, neatly groomed barn where the proven hounds resided. They had space to live comfortably and runs that they could use whenever they wished, which seemed almost heavenly to us.
Sophie, I dont want to get close to them. They always put us down, calling us bad racers and other horrible things. I hate them.
Moons voice jolted me out of any sense of calmness that had been achieved. I turned my head as best as I could and replied, I know. But we have no choice but to go past them. Just...just ignore them. They dont know who we are and what we can do yet, but well show them.
My voice gave me a boost of confidence. After all, we were just starting our careers. Maybe we could beat them, the prized racers. We had years ahead of us to prove ourselves in the prestigious world of luring.
Almost as soon as I had finished, Style butted in with her usual degrading, depressing, and blunt comments.
Sophie, you know full well that we will never reach that level. We are the rejects, the low grade racers, the dogs who no one knows about, much less cares about, the bottom tier. Just look at us. Skinny, stumbling fools who are doomed to this fate, she snarled. Her posture was defiant, but also showed pain and sorrow.
Almost as if cued, our enemies emerged from the barn, growling and aggressively barking. We tried to shrink, hunching over and showing submission. Nothing would stop them. They kept going, forever angry and merciless.
Some dogs snapped at us through the fence, trying to attack us, to tear us to shreds. To them, we were little more than a game, a toy to play with. Master let them bark at us, growl, show aggressiveness. These were his prize dogs, we weren't worth a cent to him. Style growled at them, but was badly outnumbered. Moon hid behind me, though it did him no good. I tucked my tail inbetween my legs and kept my head low, showing submission and fear.
Finally reaching the track entrance, we found that the track had been transformed into a muddy mess by the rain. Shimmering water puddles had formed in low spots, the surface rippling as droplets hit the top of the water. The metal of the track fence was coated in sparkling water droplets, and the sand and clay footing material is gloppy and unstable. Master quickly unlatches the gate with a loud rattle and yanks at our leashes, signaling us to get in. We oblige, and scamper into the back area of the track.
We know the drill from here. There are 10 small crates to put us in until it is time for our run. Master has trained us to go in, but we dont feel like going back into a cage after spending most of our time in them. We quickly expresses our anger and refused to go into another cage.
No! Please, dont make me get in there! Its too small in there. Not again! Moon cries out. With a quick and brutal shove from Masters boot, he skids backwards with a sharp yip and enters the kennel, the door slamming shut and quickly being secured. Moon, looking dejected and sore, curls up and shudders as if he was a tiny pup again.
Style leaps up at Master, baring her fangs like a lion. He knocks her down with a well placed knock on her chest, resulting in her laying in the dirt, whimpering.
You wont get away with this, she snarls, springing up and rushing again. This time, Master steps away, leaving her to knock into the wooden divider. A solid thud comes from the rickety wood, and Style jumps up again. She starts to charge but fails to finish, instead stepping into the crate, defiant but beaten.
That leaves me. Instead of trapping me in a cage, Master turns me loose on the track. Stepping high to avoid all the mud, I let the rain lightly land on my coat, rinsing away some of the grime and crud that has accumulated over the weeks since my last bath, which was on kennel inspection day. I sighed as I heard the Masters whistle, which was my signal to get into the racing box. I slunk over, waiting.
Grabbing by collar, he pulled me into the box. I barked, telling him that I was not to be treated like that. He rewarded me by quickly yanking up on my collar, causing my airway to be blocked, in turn making me gasp for air pathetically like a fish. Suddenly I could breathe again, and I sucked in gulps of crisp air.
Before I could get my breath again, the shutes door opened, and the decoy began to rocket down the stretch of muddy track. My ears perked up, eyes fixed to the prize. I gathered my legs under me in a split second and pushed off as instinct took over. I was flying at 34 MPH within three strides, my legs stretching to extremes, carrying me above the dirt as fast as an African cheetah. My lungs pulled in enormous amounts of oxygen, allowing me to run faster and faster, reaching speeds of 40 MPH.
My heart was pounding as I screamed down the track in pursuit of the grey and brown decoy, the wind and rain pelting my face. I dug into the clay to gain a steady footing, accelerating to my top speed. Nothing in the world could match my joy, or my speed. My legs flexed and stretched, sending me on my way down the track. Everything was perfect.
But I should have known it was too good to be true. I knew that something was about to go terribly wrong as soon as I missed a key timing point with my front legs. My weight was shifted to the front, and my back legs pushed me down, hard, into the muddy dirt. I plummeted down into the dirt, rolling onto my back and sliding before coming to a stop in the middle of the track.
My chest heaved as I gasped, desperate for fresh oxygen. I panted, dazed and confused. Why was I here again? I had to get up before Master saw me. With a whimper I forced myself to my feet. After my vision returned to normal, I realized that I was just past the second turn, out of sight. My side was shot with pain, and I couldnt put much weight on my right side, and the left side wasnt much better.
With a start, I jumped as the decoy shot past me. My instincts kicked again and I raced after it with a start. The pain was unlike anything Id ever felt before, almost crippling me. I couldnt keep the pace up and quickly started to loose speed. I jogged after the decoy, favoring my front right leg. I rationally reasoned that I needed to stop, but my sighthound bloodlines contradicted that. It was a struggle that I fought to avoid injuring myself further.
Soon I arrived at the front of the track. Panting, I shivered as another wave of excruciating pain shot through my mud-ridden body. My muzzle was bent out of shape, and it restricted almost all sound. Master took one look at me and shook his head, groaning. With a swift sweep of his meaty paws, he grabbed my collar. Scowling, he lifted all 52 pounds of me, cutting of my air supply for the second time today. With a gasp, I hung limply my my collar, helpless and weak. I knew what was coming.
The Masters eyebrows sharpened, and he pulled his arm back, readying for a blow. With a whimper, I raise my head and stare into his cold, harsh, unforgiving eyes. I thought, just for a second, that I glimpsed a glint of resentment and respect.
Worthless mutt, he hissed.
Then I yowled in pain as he struck me. Vision blurring, I fell down to the ground, dizzy. I could hear barking from my compatriots, frantic and crazed. And as suddenly as the pain began, it dulled along with the world around me. I gave the battle up and let myself start to slip. Soon everything was black, blacker than the darkest night.
A sliver of white light appears, seeming to burn straight into my chocolate brown eyes. I close my eyes, trying to escape the illuminecence. It persists, and I become aware of the frenzied barking that surrounds me. I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light. I realize that the light comes from a flashlight held by Master. I am lying on the hard, freezing, concrete floor in the shed again. As I collect my wits, Master moves onto the next cage, no longer concerned about me.
Coming to the conclusion that I am located back in the kennels, I raise my head. I am unprepared for how weak I have become. Using most of my strength, I am able to survey my surroundings. I am not in my personal cage anymore, instead, I am trapped in the cage at the back of the shed. Almost no light reached into the dark gloom, making it spooky and dismal.
Sophie! Are you okay?
Moons voice rang out over the chaos. I was glad to know that I was not forgotten.
I think Im fine. What happened after I blacked out? I weakly offered. I had no idea about the goings on since I had passed out.
Sophie, you were out for three days. We werent sure you were going to make it, Moon yipped, looking at me with...wonder? I couldnt quite tell.
That's impossible. I couldnt have been out that long! I exclaimed in disbelief.
Well, that's the truth. Master dragged you back here with the chain lead. Style attacked, but she couldnt do anything. Master took her down.
Moon stopped talking. A wave of concern and sadness washed over the barn. Almost immediately, the other dogs stopped barking. Everything was silent, so eerily quiet.
Actually, talking about Style...theres some bad news, Moon whispered, eyes sad and worried. The other dogs dropped their heads, respectful. I jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
No...she couldnt have died, I cried softly, my voice audible only to myself. Suddenly, the world got darker, and everything seemed hopeless. My heart ripping into shreds, I closed my eyes, crestfallen. Another comrade had fallen in this cruel world.
No. She is still alive, but perhaps not for long, a demanding voice offered through the darkness, almost as if she was bored of the matter.
My ears pricked up. Ignoring the excruciating pain, I rolled up onto my side. With a horrible shock, I realized I could not move my right front leg, and I cried out. The other dogs looked at me with a mix of concern and surprise. I pricked my ears towards the mysterious new voice.
From my standpoint, I could make out a small, lean figure. As she stepped forward, I could make out her familiar red brindle coat. She had been a lower ranked dog in the upper class barn. She had tormented us constantly, and found pleasure in insulting us. She curled her lip at us as she stepped forwards into the small bit of light we had.
When that little brat ran off, I was brought here to replace her. I dont belong here, in this dump, she crowed. Jumping at the door of her kennel, a metallic rattle filled the air. I could almost taste the fear in my compatriots.
Allow me to introduce myself to you fools. I am BP Celes Chara Artemis. I used to win everything in sight...one of the top dogs here in this dismal swamp, she hissed at us, eyes wild with fury and hatred. When we showed no sign of recognition, she growled and bared her teeth, trying to scare us into submission.
End of part 1 |
My ID: 89949
My Genre: Realistic Fiction
Currently: Finished
-----Minor Blood from minor injuries, nothing gory------
All the thoughts in my head were running around like crazy. Math formulas, science theories, history dates, and a conversation that I had with my mom this morning. "Wear your contacts," she had said, "you look pretty without your glasses." I had rolled my eyes and refused, liking the look of my glasses much better.
As I turned the corner, my mind whirring, I nearly ran into someone for the fifth time today. After I made a quick apology, I ducked around the corner to my locker, where I stuffed half of my textbooks inside. I glanced at my watch, confirming that I only had five minutes to walk from one side of the school from the other. I dropped my science book into my bag and quickly shut my locker. I spun around, and started a quick pace down the hallway, and when I made a turn, I almost collided with another person, which made the tally six. At least that time the boy looked about as confused and stressed as I did. We gave each other quick nods before we headed our directions, trying not to run down the halls lest we get caught.
I ran outside, into the drizzle that I was used to. I was from England after all. I pulled the hood of my raincoat up, over my head and shoved my book bag under my coat, and dashed to the science lab, which today was out in the green house.
Once again, I nearly ran into the door. I yanked it open, and slid in, and quietly shut it behind me. I took a seat along the edge of the room, and tried to catch my breath, which was hard with the humid air of the green house. I stole a look at my watch, and found that I arrived not a moment to soon. The small bell above the door rung and Mr. Clemounce rose from his seat in the front of the room just as another student arrived.
I was in half shock and half happiness. The happy part of me was congratulating myself on being on time, and the shocking side was amazed that someone entered after me. That had never happened. Not only that, but it was the same boy I ran into earlier!
At this time, most of the class was staring at the boy, who looks rather embarrassed and slowly slid into the seat next to me. "You are late." Mr. Clemounce announced in a rather grim tone. The boy tried to look confident, but Mr. Clemounce quickly gave him the stare down and the boy ended up looking at his feet. "I will see you after class, Mr. Jordan." our teacher murmured. The the boy nodded and Mr. Clemounce strode back over to his spot.
"Today we will be starting our segment on plant dissection." Mr. Clemounce started, "Lucky for you, this should be much easier than animal dissection." A few of us gave each other gratifying glances. "Mr. Patrick and Miss Frost, can you please help hand out the trays?" Our teacher asked. Two students stood up and approached a rolling shelf storage unit. They pulled out a couple of trays each, and passed one out to each student. When mine was bestowed upon me, I gazed down at it, making out a small carnation. "If you don't know what to do, hopefully someone around you will." Mr. Clemounce remarked. "You may now begin." I looked over at the boy next to me, who shrugged as we opened our bagged trays.
Science class was actually fairly easy, once Mark, that was the boy I nearly ran into earlier, and I teamed up. He seemed to know a lot about science. Either way, I was glad to get out of the stuffy room. As soon as the last trays were slid back onto their racks, I bolted outside, into the rain that had grown into pouring sheets. I grimaced. Even this was bad weather. Once again, I shoved my books under my coat and dashed for cover. I was quickly able to make it to the door, but just as I was about to pull it open, the door was flung open as someone dashed out, and the metal wall slammed me in the face.
Pain. All I could feel was pain. And wet. Now that I had regained minor feeling, I tried to stumbled forward, but it didn't work and I ended up falling down. I could barely see through my smashed glasses and I couldn't feel my left leg. I managed to pull open the door and stagger in, and I collapsed on the dry floor. Mud had already soaked into my jacket and had waterlogged my books. I carefully managed to take my glasses off, which had been well shattered. Groaning, I attempted to push myself off of the floor, but ended up slipping and falling back down again. Defeated, I lay beside the door, curled up, mud soaked and bleeding.
It seemed like forever before someone touched me on the shoulder. I turned my head up in their direction, but without my glasses, it made no difference. They slipped their hands into mind and pulled me up, before throwing my arm around their shoulders and doing the same with their's for support. In this way, the two of us limped down the halls, taking multiple turns before entering a room that I guessed was the nurse's office.
I slumped down into one of the chairs as the student who helped me rang a small bell on the desk in the front of the room. "I will be with you in only a moment!" I heard a voice call out before the sound of scrambling of feet entered the room. I could hear a small gasp. "My, my, my! Whatever happened to you?" The woman, who I assumed was the nurse, asked. "I found her near the east door like this." The voice of the student answered. That voice sounded familiar....
"We must get you cleaned up." The nurse muttered, as she hurried over to take off my jacket. She slipped it off and the started to dab at my wounded leg with a cool, damp cloth. I heard the sound of the door slowly shutting and I guessed that the student must have left.
It wasn't long before the nurse had my leg bandaged up tightly. She had run my jacket through a quick wash in the back which made the majority of the mud come out. I slipped the jacket back on before I remembered something. "Miss Amelia," I started. "I need to get back to my locker to get my extra pair of contacts." "Well, since you're a Colton, your locker will be the eigth one down the hall to the left." The nurse stated. I nodded before thanking here and limped out the door.
I quickly found my locker, which lucky for me, I had left open a crack. I sifted through a small box of stuff and found my contact lenses, which were my last resort. My mom said I looked pretty without glasses, but I rather liked them. I pressed a lens into each eye, which easily cleared up my vision. I pulled out my ponytail and put my hair back up before glancing at my watch and noticing that I was an hour late for math.
I slowly clambered down a few more halls, making my way to room 158. I took a deep breath before I swung the door open and hobbled in, closing it quietly behind me. Ms. Francisco, who was probably one of the nicer teachers, gave me a solid glare, but not a harsh one like the ones Mr. Clemounce gave. "Where have you been all this time?" She asked, stressed note in her voice. "First Mark, who came in fifteen minutes late, and now you fourty-five minutes later!" Mark raised his hand and Ms. Francisco's eyes fell on him. "I told you, Ms, Francisco, I took Emily to the nurse, which was why I was behind."
"Is this true, Emily, that you were taken to the nurse by Mark?" Ms. Francisco asked me. Once again, I was in shock. First of all, Mark had helped me, unlike all the other students that had simply passed me by, second, I actually had no idea if it was Mark or not, since I was mostly blind at the time. Though, after I heard his voice again, I knew it was him who helped me.
"It is true, Ms. Francisco." I confirmed and Mark smiled. Ms. Francisco's face seemed to lighten a bit at this, and I could tell that she was relieved that problems had been sorted out. "Well, I'm glad to see that things have been sorted out." Our teacher reported, clearly ending the conversation. I too to my seat next to Mark, who gave me a wink, which I smiled to in response.
Nothing more interesting happened for most of the day. Mark and I got to know each other a bit more over lunch, in which I found out the he had recently moved from South Carolina to be closer to family. Mark also apparently has five older siblings, two dogs, and a cat, none of which get along very well.
By the end of history, I was ready to do a mix of some exploding, running around, and falling asleep. The last bell of the day finally rung and most of the students shot out of their chairs and out the door, ready to start the weekend. As Mark and I hung back, not wanting to get trampled, he sidled up to me. "Guess I'll see you on Monday." He commented. I smiled. "Unless if, you know, we got together over the weekend." Mark grinned. "Sounds like a plan. See you at roller rink on the south side of town, Saturday at two?" "Will do." I confirmed. As we followed the last students out of class, Mark made one last comment. "I forgot to mention. You look pretty with your contacts in."
I know what I'll be wearing every day to school for the rest of my life. |
